Sherlock's Secret

Part 6

4 months after the Jump

Sherlock lay with his knees pressed to his chest and his eyes scrunched up wishing the pain would end. He flinched a little when he heard the tapping of someone checking there were no bubbles in another needle. He didn't open his eyes just offered his arm again and felt the cold needle press against his skin piercing it and a liquid running into his veins. He bit down on his lip and let a tear slip down and he thought about John.

John sat on the floor of 221B staring at the TV with Sherlock's scalf wraped around him. A hot coffee was pressed aginst his hands as Mrs Hudson gave him a sad smile. "You need to get out of this flat dear." John just sat quitley eyes glazed over and hands shaking. It had been 4 month and at first John was sick with anger at Sherlock. Why jump? Why break his heart? After John had smashed the flat up he had found Sherlock's hidden stash of cocain and a pack of ciggerets. He lay them on the table and stared at them for hours before finally standing and taking one fag out of the small creased box and pressing it to his lips wanting nothing more for this to slowly kill him so he could reunite with his love. After a while John just felt numb without Sherlock to make his heart beat, his brain had shut off and the only thing that hurt was the way the tar from the ciggerettes burnt his lungs.

7 months later

Sherlock stood straight and looked around the room finding an interesting map on the white wall that glowed brilliantly in the small amount of light that streamed through a miniature window. His glass room sat to the side in a larger room in which seemed to be a laboratory which, Sherlock felt must mean he was their experiment. The smaller of said rooms was made up of 3 walls of glass. Insuring he could be observed 24/7 with another large white wall where his small cot like bed lay under a large map. Sherlock didn't mind considering his circumstances, after all he did jump off a building to be here. With that thought in his mind Sherlock felt a pain unlike any other shoot in his heart as Johns scared and confused tear streaked face look up at him. 

Sherlock spun around when he heard a knock on the glass, startling him out of him mournful daydream. Maggie stood with a large smile in which Sherlock returned, if only to be polite. The door opened, which faced his bed and stood about 6ft yet seemed so small in this cramped environment, Sherlock couldn't stop himself from throwing himself at Maggie and laughing hysterically. Even John would understand this. He was cured, fixed and ready to go home and Maggie had done this. She had saved him so he could go home to John. "You did it!" That's all he could say as he clung to Maggie, letting a few tears slip down his face. "You're crazy but you did it." Maggie laughed with him and pulled away, her red hair flowing in a long ponytail with glasses perched on her makeup less face. Sherlock had grown used to this comfortable and sweet Maggie.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do it any faster but at least you will be home for Christmas. It needs work but I think you'll be okay. So go...find him and fucking fall in love for Christ sake!" Sherlock hugged her again and then grabbed his coat that had sat on a dark mahogany chair since the day he arrived waiting to be worn, waiting for that collar to be turned up again. Giving her one last smile, full of gratefulness and joy, he left out the door. "Oh Sherlock..." He turned to look at her as she threw him a small wash bag with the few personal belonging that could be recovered from 221B by Maggie's associates. 

Although Sherlock was grateful to put this place behind him before he could leave he had to ask the question that had been going through his mind day after day like clockwork in between his desperate cries for John, when his brain could actually muster a real thought. "Why? Why did you help me?" Her smile turned sad and she looked down at her hand and there on her finger was a engagement ring that shined bright. Sherlock deduced it had sentimental due to its state of cleanliness further more the way it had worn a small amount where she would constantly touch it almost to make sure it was still there. "They gave her 4 months to live. They said we won't have time to get married and have a family...but because of you Sherlock...we have a lot longer. Thank you." Sherlock was shocked to see a small tear run down her nose and drop onto her finger. She quickly wiped it away and smiled again her strong, stubborn and star like personality returned. "Now get out of here! We both have people to tell how much we love them." Sherlock smiled wide and ran for the door and he could hear Maggie call to him. "I told you Mr Holmes! I told you you would feel something!"

3 hours later

John's phone pinged with an email with no information from where it came from. He didn't bother opening it because it was probably Mycroft asking if he was still alive. He lite a cigarette and put it between his chapped lips as he opened a parcel that had come in the post. A plain DVD with only his reflection, that made him grimace, to stare back at him. How strange. He let it slip into the DVD player and sat on the floor where he now spent most of his time surrounded with Sherlock's belongings such as his scarf, violin and one of those stupidly tight shirts he used to wear. The floor was littered with ash trays teaming with cigarette butts but John had no reason to clean, no one to look after but now and then Mrs Hudson would come in and leave a tray of tea and some food she would clear away the rubbish but she made sure to never move any of Sherlock's things. 

Sometimes on John's worse days he would imagine Sherlock at the window playing the violin, he would remember the way his shoulder blades would move against the silk of his shirt and how his hair would move to the violent gestures his arms would make when he composed. So you can imagine that when Sherlock's face appeared on his TV screen why he nearly chocked to death. "Hello John. If you're watching this I am probably dead. I am so sorry that I cannot be with you. I hope some day we will reunite in where ever I go after this. I have always loved you John. I had hoped that I would have gotten better but this thing claws at my insides..." Sherlock's voice sounded almost...broken? He sounded as if these words where the very fear that held him back from John. John hated it and even listening to Sherlock say he loved him didn't make John feel any better. Wanting to turn the TV off nay throw the TV out of the window and burn it to dust. He didn't want this kind of torture. Although it pained John he didn't turn the TV off because this was his Sherlock, his love, his everything.

Sherlock runs down baker street and hopes that John is there waiting for him. Having worked out that he was far from dead and that he was very much in love with him. Although that wasn't what John was thinking as he pulled the cold pistol from under the sofa where he had hidden it out of sight for Mrs Hudson's sake. Sherlock ran faster then his legs could take but he didn't care. His arms ached from the injections and his head burned from the cold wind. Sherlock may have been alive but in John's mind there was no way on earth that he could live another miniute without him, dead or alive. If Sherlock didn't walk through that door any moment John would take that cold pistol and point it at his head then he would pull that trigger.

Sherlock voice rings in John's ears and confustion clouds his mind and his hands shake as he points towards himself. "It tears me apart. My bones stick out and my eyes are sunk into my skull so far I can bearly see the beauty of the world with you in it. My mind is clouded by this illness. Every deduction I make and every choice I make I must remember what happened and what I have..." John lets out a little sob as Sherlock on screen lets a tear slips but smiles a little when he looks at a picture that John had hung on the wall after his birthday. Sherlock was hiding a smile and John jumped for joy over a new jumper Sherlock had bought him. John looked down at himself and ran his hand down the jumper that didn't hang right anymore after he had stoped eating.

Sherlock knocked frantically at the door with the numbers 221B sparkling in the sun and his heart raced as Mrs Hudson opened it. Starting to sob, telling him how much she had missed him and then Johns's name passed her lips and he apoligesed but insisted he must see John pushing past her a little. "He's a mess dear. He's fragile. Be gentle with him now." She wore a small smile but she knew that Sherlock coming back could only change so much.

"I'm sorry that I'm sick or at least was. I hope that the memories of me are not clouded by this dirty disease. You probably know by now why I died but I never really got to tell anyone so here we go..." Sherlock on screen took a deep breath and he put on a small smile but his eyes were full of tears and John felt his heart break for the last time and in that moment he chose not to destroy his brain with gun but his heart or at least what was left of it.

Sherlock ran up the stairs and paused feeling fear over come his body. The thought of John no longer wanting or loving him or what if John hated him for this, for everything. What if he had moved on? What if he was gone? He prayed with all the faith he could muster up he let his adrenerline and love for John burst through the door. John's head snapped around just as a very sad looking Sherlock on screen spoke words that sent bile to Sherlocks throat but not the words were only half of his fear.

"I have HIV."