trying ||| Sherlock

The End

- Actually, there is one other deduction you have failed to make, Sherlock, - Mycroft drawled before I could realise what he was saying and stop him.

- Is there? - Sherlock's eyes were downcast.

- Why of course, - Mycroft smiled sweetly and looked at me in that nasty way of his, from top to toe.

Something began to dawn upon me, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Mycroft began to speak faster.

- Our dear young guest has taken quite a fancy to you, has it not occurred to you, brother mine?

Sherlock's reaction was instantaneous. He looked up and stared at me, cutting off any chance I had to play off Mycroft's words as a joke.

- Wow... that's so not tr- I stammered.

- I'm flattered, I'm sure -Sherlock uttered and my words were cut short. I looked up at him to see him looking the other way and somehow that hurt more than anything.

- Indeed, to be the object of an obsession coming from a person whose intellectual abilities are as far below mine as her appearance is far from being anything close to attractive. Thank you, brother mine. Perhaps I deliberately chose to ignore the elephant in the room which you so obligingly pointed out.

I sat frozen to the spot, my body seeming not to belong to me anymore. I was blushing deeply, but not from anger - I was counting the seconds to when my tears would fall, but they had no intention of doing so. Instead I rose, and quietly left the room. Every step I took away from Sherlock, even shutting the door behind me felt like a superhuman effort. The room had gone bleak and the feel of my feet against the carpet seemed surreal. I closed the door and went gingerly down the stairs, took my coat and left.

As I was going out of the door, I heard Mrs Hudson scream:

-Lily, honey, stop!

My first instinct at hearing her voice was to lunge forward and run - but then I realised I was much safer in a taxi. I was in luck with at least one thing - I was driving away sooner than Mrs Hudson appeared at the door, her small hands clutching her face. I could see her as I drove away, and could distinctly hear her shout:

- Oh Sherlock, bring her back!

In the commotion, I had forgotten to tell the driver where to take me. Realising the fare would probably cost more than I could afford, I rode for a couple of blocks after getting out, paying him with the little cash I had and walking down the street leading to Regent's Park.

It was only there, under the green trees and among the solitary walkers with their dogs that tears finally came. Sherlock, of all people? How could I be so stupid and think that Mycroft wouldn't tell? But how could he tell him, what did I ever do to make him hate me so much? Or did he simply enjoy inflicting pain on other people?

One thing was certain. I would have to return to the flat to take my things... and then it would be starting from scratch all over again.

I brushed a tear away with my hand - a small terrier looked at me with interest and possibly sympathy.

Had I been in a more normal state, I would have asked the owner what the dog's name was and petted it... But I was too crestfallen even for that.

I walked on, feeling like the paths of the park were wider than usual. Or maybe it was because I felt so small and insignificant now that Sherlock had so cruelly put me in my place. And all for what? I had never made fun of him or told a soul. He could have killed me just for being me. Just for having the audacity to like him as if he were someone like me had the permission to like.

At length I sat down on a bench and closed my eyes, listening to the wind howling through the trees.

Whatever. Denial had set in. Sherlock despised me, but it was all not a big deal. I wouldn't talk to him anymore anyway. I wouldn't talk to any of them anymore anyway. I just had to wait for John to call and tell him I was never going back.

Yet as I remembered the way Sherlock's hand had gripped my shoulder  when we were hiding in the in the darkened cellar a month ago... as if trying to hold me near him for a little while longer. As if we had been through so much together that he didn't want me to leave just now, to stay there in the darkness and not go back to the light.

How his fingers had traced my shoulder and finally let me go - how I had turned to him for an explanation and he simply looked back at me with an undecipherable expression before turning away... How I suddenly realised that I wouldn't have known how much his touch meant to me if he hadn't gripped my shoulder just now.

The power in his hand, the dominance and yet the gentleness had been cat-like, as if he could have torn me apart with his claws but decided not to. But now he had. I was torn apart all right.

My phone buzzed and I answered, trying to sound as normal as I could.

- Lily, I am so sorry, I-

- It's all right, John, - I muttered, biting my lip and remembering John was one of the members of my family who thought they could talk me out of anything. And so he had just started -

- You have to come back here. Sherlock is a prick, you know that. And Mycroft... he's the king of pricks. I don't know what they said to you, but you should come back and I'm never leaving you alone with them again, do you hear me?

- Yes.

- Where are you? Are you outside?

- I'm not going back, John.

A silence.

- Of course you are, don't be ridiculous.

- No, John, that's it. I'm fed up. Nothing - I stammered, the tears coming into my voice again - and no one is worth suffering like this for.

- No one? What are you talking about, listen, Lily-

I hung up, put the phone on airplane mode and cried some more.

How long I sat there, I didn't know. But at length, I stood up and walked away, just as the evening was setting in and the first cleaners were coming in to collect the trash.

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