The Sociopath and the Doctor

Running

SHERLOCK'S P.O.V

I hate being bored. Especially now. Johns at the party probably having fun without me. Why is that making me anxious? I sigh and sit there thinking. An urge wants me to go to the party, to apologize. Ok, I will. I feel bad how rude I was this morning. I stand up put my coat on and leave out the door.

-

In the cab I automatically know where the party is. I read John's texts when he stormed out of the room.

-

When I got there I could here the music so loudly even from outside. I walked inside prepared to apologize to John and say I was sorry.

That's when I saw it happen.

A wave of sadness and depression flooded over me, my heart now rotting. My eyes tear up and are streaming down my face. I stand there not even caring that people were looking and the music stopped.

I stare at John, who is in the corner, with someone else. Their lips touching, and I could see. John was enjoying it.

My heart was burning, like it was thrown in a fire and then in lava. They finally noticed that something was wrong, and he looked towards me his mouth turning from a smile to a frown. He saw that tears were coming down my face, how I was so petrified at what was happening.

"Sherlock-"

"No."

"Please, don't-"

"No."

He was walking towards me, everyone staring. I backed away.

I stumbled on something but kept moving backwards near the door. My ears were deaf I couldn't hear anything. My veins were throbbing so loud that someone could probably hear them. I trudged out the door and ran. My tears now uncontrollably leaking out of my eyes. I saw, John was running after me but I was too quick. He eventually stopped and called my name.

I didn't respond.

I ran through alleys and streets with no light, it was so cold every part of me was numb. That didn't matter. Nothing did. John is gone. Everything is gone.

-

I reached in the pocket inside my coat for something I didn't do since I was a teen. I kept it in there sometimes, just in case something bad happened.

I took it out and put it to my arm, the needle piercing in my skin. What would John say? No. John is gone, and will always be.

It takes affect. My legs carry me somewhere I don't know. I trip on something and fall on pieces of glass. My skin is bleeding everywhere, but I still don't care. I trudge through an alley of dumpsters and sit in a corner of a building.

I take a shard of glass and bring them to my wrists.