Double W.Holmes

Moving Out

"So…..you want to stay in my house?" said Lestrade, that's sitting at my opposite.

I went to Lestrade's place earlier this morning, to find an another place to live. The first person came to my mind was Lestrade, and here I am.

I can't go back, not now at least. Memories that used to be sweet and blissful turned out to be a torture.

"John, what are you doing?"
"Knitting, obviously."
"I know. But why?"
"For you. Next week is your birthday, remember?"
"How did you know that? I haven't tell anyone yet."
"You identity card is in the laundry you bloody idiot."
"Oh…what are you making anyway?"
"Since you're the great detective with the funny hat, make a guess!"
"Come on just tell me."
"Well, It's a jumper."
"Jumper? I never wear those. Wait, the jumper was the same as yours."
"Yeah because I made them."
"Then, why you making one for me?"
"You said you couldn't find a one as it's too short or too big. I've taken your measurements and this should fit for you."
"Thank you, John." He smiled.

"Sherlock, where are you taking me?"
"Almost there."
Sherlock lead blindfolded John up a hill and let him sat on a picnic blanket. He took off the blindfold but Sherlock still want John to remain his eyes closed.
"And three, two, one. Open your eyes,  John."
By the time he opened his eyes, shooting stars were drifting across the starry sky. It started with one or two, then became more and more. The panorama was indeed mesmerizing and breathtaking.
"Happy Valentine's day, John."

"Well John, how's your relationship doing?" asked Lestrade.
"Good, quite flourishing."
"Erm…okay."
"And, you and Sherlock's big brother?"
"Great, we're…great. He's busy recently with god-knows-what national critics."
"Oh I bet he was just too nervous being with you."
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"Nothing."
It was just like my Holmes.

"I know it's hard for you, John. You can stay as long as you want. It's just me and Mycroft living here, we don't mind share the space with you."

"Thanks, Lestrade. I can't thank you enough." John hung his head low, staring at his cup.

"If you need me, just knock, okay? Sometimes me and Mycroft will be late, don't mind calling me. I think I be the same as you when I lose him. I have some work to do at Scotland Yard, are you okay alone?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'll be fine."

"I'll be back around half past six."

"Em." I nodded and mumbled him an answer.

Lestrade prepared himself a bit and left.

I took the mug, sipped a little. Later I grabbed the remote and switched from channel to channel, but neither one was able to occupy the void inside me. I need someone...someone to talk to. Anybody except the bloody therapist.

I was alone, and I feel scared. The quieter it gets the more I feel the enlarging anxiety inside me. My heart was pounding hard through my rib cages as cold sweat formed on my wrinkled forehead and dripped down from my chin. My face turned pale as sheet. I can't stop shivering. I was gasping for air desperately. My mug fell out from my hand, shattered into pieces. The atmosphere as though dropped to negative. The flashbacks of the war kept pierced into my mind.

I stood but tumbled. After my second attempt I searched for something that was sharp. I fail to get any in the kitchen. The drawers were emptied where the cutlery should be kept. At last I found a pen knife in one of the drawers.

I stared at the shinning blade. My hand that holds the pen knife slowly moved to my another wrist, and I pulled back. I felt a sense of relieve and satisfaction when watching my blood oozing out from the cut. But only one wasn't enough. I did the second, third.....every cut I made became shallower and shallower because my body is starting to collapse. I smiled as I gradually lose my body temperature.

My vision blurred, and I passed out.