Sherlock's Secret

Part 7

Sherlock stood shocked as an ashtray flew across the room making him finch as a shattered fragment flew into his hand. As the blood dripped down onto the floor John was already on his feet before the second drop could hit the dirty brown carpet, stained by many substances Sherlock did not wish to examine. John rushed over to him the gun flying half way across the room, forgotten by its previous owner. Before even thinking of the mess Sherlock had made, what he had done to his heart never mind his brain, he engulfed him in a hug.

"John?" The words rolled off of Sherlock's tongue and that one name was layered with millions of begging cries of his name. John felt everything all at once, the hate that had once burned in his body after Sherlock had jumped, the sorrow as he felt the last strands of his friend vanishing into the abyss. John's jumper smelled odd not like his normal sent and although Sherlock had gained a minimum amount of weight he could swear he could hear his ribs chiming against John's once well filled frame. John pulled away looking up into the blue eyes that he almost thought he would never see again. In a way John was scared that this way just another horrible dream showing him he was slowly losing his mind. To ensure he was not dreaming and for other obvious reasons he let his body fly around swinging his arm until a loud ear piercing slap echoed. Sherlock staggered and raised his bloody hand to his now red face as if he may be able to rub away the shock he felt inside.

John was a mess, his mind swirled as he realised this was not another psychotic dream but yet he wished Sherlock away because this was too painful to bare. The thought that he had lost Sherlock and now he had returned but why? So John would be forced to watch him die all over again? John's face was unreadable as he fetched the first aid kit from the bathroom although Sherlock was aware of the thoughts racing in his mind. This day would either make John hate him with a passion that's unbreakable by Sherlock's love or he would love him as much as the day Sherlock left him.

John sat on the couch surrounded by Sherlock's things and a discarded gun lay by the TV on which Sherlock's eye were paused, at some point John had found the time to do that although his brain doesn't remember doing it. For a moment they sat in silence as John observed the wound and fished out the protruding glass. "I missed you." The words were cold but Sherlock could still feel the meaning as a once put out fire in his soul flickered. "Where have you been?" Sherlock smiled and was about to speak when John pushed a little too hard on the cut making him hiss in pain but this did not stop John's small smirk as he took a small amount of pleasure out of the circumstance. His brain was on overload but he could still take pleasure in the small amount of inflicted pain that he had caused as revenge for the months without his true love.

"You remember Maggie I assume?" Sherlock spoke after a while once he was bandaged up and John had strolled off to the kitchen. John was frozen in place as he remembered the women and her unfriendly gun man. He tore himself away from the memory only to look at Sherlock and be thrown into a much founder memory.

*FLASH BACK*

Laying close together as the moon shined brighter then ever and Sherlock's eyes looked like the milky way sparkling and gleaming with life as he smiled at John laying a small kiss to his forehead before falling asleep. That Christmas together had been so beautiful and yet the love had ended so soon with John packing his bags and leaving. It had been so hard for John to watch as the man he loved fall apart wondering what was wrong, what he could do to stop it. John remembered the night he had deiced to go. He had held Sherlock every night after Christmas but this night Sherlock refused to be held or even lay down as he paced up and down for unexplained reasons. John had, although he had moaned, excepted that this was going to be a night without sleep.

Letting himself sink into the sofa as Sherlock raced around the flat like a headless chicken. Before he could stop his motor mouth he spoke. "Do you really love me?" Sherlock had heard the question and given a small frown in John's direction before continuing to pace. "I can't do this anymore." John realised he had spoken again and he also new the words were true. This made Sherlock stop and stare in confusion, turning his head to the side like a puppy. "What do you mean? What exactly can't you do anymore? I mean seriously John, you hardly do anything I mean for god sake YOU replaced you with a balloon for a whole day you really think you would be missed?" Sherlock had began pacing again unaware of how cruel this words came across to John. "I'm leaving Sherlock." Sherlock brushed off what he had said as he took a cigarette out and began to smoke.