Sherlock; Heartfelt Lies

Chapter 5: Sightless Love

John P.O.V

Sherlock was fast asleep by the time we had reached the fifth episode, and I didn't want to wake him. It had gotten harder to make sense of the images on the screen anyway, the once clear images began to blur and my eyes were straining to make sense of it. Fed up, I flicked the TV off and sighed frustratedly.

Really, I should be taking my medication in five or so minutes. Awkwardly, after gently shuffling Sherlock's flat weight off my unfeeling lap, I balanced on my legs, leaning all of my weight on the arm of the sofa.

Using only the strength of my arms, which had gotten considerably stronger of late, I pulled my weight over to my chair, where my crutches leaned against the old fabric. Leaning across with one arm, I grabbed for my crutches. My arm wobbled, the blur in my eyes making my grasp wide, and in slow motion, I couldn't do anything but watch as my clutches clattered to the floor.

"FUCK!" I growled, unable to reach them from here; knowing that if I bent down, I wouldn't stand up again. I was unsure of what to do, as Sherlock hadn't slept in a while, but I really needed to take my medication.

Suddenly I remembered that my wheelchair was not far from my chair, but usually I could only get in it from here with Sherlock's help. Using the arm of the chair again, I glanced towards the wheelchair, debating whether I could make it or not. With my heart hammering against my chest, I relaxed me grip on the sofa, falling backwards with my arms pushed slightly behind me, just in case I missed. My body hit the familiar leather, and I wheezed as all of my weight hit the back of the chair.

Sighing in relief, I made my way over to the kitchen, pushing the wheels with all of my strength. What did I need to get? Tea? No, something more important. Fuck! I CAN'T REMEMBER! My face scrunched up in thought as I wracked my brain for the forgotten knowledge. Jumper? NO.

"Medicine!" I hissed, suddenly remembering why I had gone through so much tiring trouble. The small, plain boxes were out on the side, where we always left them, mainly for easy access really. Usually I'd go around the flat on my crutches, if I had the strength; if not, Sherlock would push my in my wheelchair.

Scanning the boxes, I tried to make sense of the tiny letters, but there was no hope with the semi permanent blur glazing over my eyes. The inked words jumbled before me, making my head spin with the pain of trying to figure out something so simple. I think the first box is the medication I have to have now?

Left with not much choice, I grabbed the first box, popped out a tiny pill into my small hands and felt around the curved surface to see if it felt familiar. That was the one... I think... Although thinking was proving a challenge, as it had been half an hour since I was supposed to take the medication, and I could feel my head spinning already from being deprived for the achingly long minutes; those which felt like infinite hours.

Wheeling myself over to the sink, I grabbed a glass off the drying rack and reached to fill it up with cold water to help me swallow my pill. As I stretched out, I felt something in my body change, and soon I was witnessing the glass smashing into pieces in the sink, and the pill had fallen into my lap, my arms not wanting to lift and retrieve it. Temporarily unable to move, my head lolled down, the world blackening as I passed out into the pain free darkness.

Sherlock P.O.V

I awoke to the dull thud of something breaking, but I wasn't sure, as my ears felt muffled from sleep. Groggily, I reached my arms out, seeking John's warmth and his comforting touch. My hands met only the cold fabric of the sofa, clearly he hadn't been sat there for a thirty two minutes and fifteen seconds. As I began to rise from my tired slumber, the fog in my head began to clear, and I suddenly became aware of John's missing presence to it's full extent.