Failing Upward

Chapter 27 (part 3): Things Eternal

I hesitated to go to the New Year's Eve party at Mary's. I did want to see Sherlock, just not at a party with everyone slobbering drunk. I also wanted to see Mary. I needed to talk to her.

When I got into her car, I was so fucking nervous she thought I was having a breakdown. Fucking bad time to have an anxiety attack. By the time we were half way down the driveway, I was hyperventilating. It made Sean's excuse about me more credible— that I was gone those months because I needed a mental vacation .

Nice way to put I wigged out.

"You want to stay here?" she finally asked, stopping the car. "I mean, we don't have to go out in public. If you'd like, I could go buy some champagne. We could toast the new year in together at my place."

"No," I said, putting my head between my legs. "I need to do this."

"Count to twenty backward," she said, as she turned out of our driveway. It worked. That and the relaxation technique Sherlock taught me. I imagined green grass waving, barn swallows swooping over a lazy creek and the sweet smell of honeysuckle.

"Listen, I know you're nervous about seeing Sherlock again."

There went my happy country paradise...

"You know about Sherlock? Christ!"

This wasn't good. I thought I was going to hyperventilate again.

"Of course I know. You're as easy to read as a Dr. Seuss book. Besides, Sherlock confirmed it. Don't be mad at him for telling me. I sort of tricked him into it." She sighed, then reached over and squeezed my knee.

"Hey big guy, just admit it— you love him."

"I don't believe this."

No way Sherlock could be kept a secret. What was I doing coming to the party? I wanted to connect with Sherlock again even after all the other John had sacrificed to keep him safe?

"You're going to be fine. Let him come to you. He always does. Then, tell him you're sorry and everything will be the way it was before."

"But it won't be," I whispered.

I'd go to Mary's party. See this Sherlock. He had to understand it was over. He wasn't my Sherlock. He belonged to the John in the other time— the one I traded lives with. If by some chance I could trade places with the other John, I was going to do it. Then that John could make the choice to go back to Sherlock, but I wasn't going to make that choice.

As soon as I walked into the room and saw him, I knew it was going to be hard.

Those sad green eyes of his followed me around the room. Smith tackled me, and I landed half on the sofa and half on the coffee table. Sherlock pulled me up by the elbow.

"Take it easy," he said to Smith.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling away from Sherlock.

"Yeah, he's fine. See?" Smith said, giving me a one-two punch in the ribs. "But are you fine enough to play with us Wednesday night? What do you say? Please?! Come on!"

"Okay, okay, I'll be there," I said. "But only if you stop it. I'm tender, you know."

I stepped backward on top of Sherlock's foot, and he handed me a beer.

"You look like shit for someone who's been on a mental vacation for over six months," he said. "Maybe there something essential missing in your life. Something or someone you missed?"

"Possibly," I said. What was I doing? John, get that stupid grin off your face. Stop looking into Sherlock's eyes. God, he's twitching his nose.