The Madness Was A Man

How Many Secrets You May Have

Sherlock wasn't even afraid of the attic any longer; no he flung open the door like he ownedthe place and marched inside with confidence that might have been ill placed.Yet the attic proved to be every bit as harmless as it had been before, noshadows seemed to be occupied and no creatures seemed to be lurking about inthe boxes which surrounded them. All was quiet, thankfully, and Sherlock's rushof adrenaline faded away, leaving him now to search patiently through the boxesfor the supplies he needed. He had hatched a rather ridiculous plan, one thatwould undoubtedly get him in big trouble if ever he were caught. He had heardthe story of Rapunzel enough times to know how to climb out a window, but nowwhat he needed was something strong enough to support him. That was where thestories of prison breaks came in handy. He needed bedsheets, enough to lowerhim from his second story window and back again before daybreak. He was goingto see John tonight; the catch was that Agatha would never see them together.That was her threat, was it not? If ever she witnessed them then John would besent away, but she would be fast asleep by the time Sherlock decided to make arun for it. He could take his notebooks and pens and start off for the cottagejust as soon as he hit the ground, and together he and John could practicetheir writing alone in a candle lit room, just the two of them alone togetherin what might be paradise. It was getting closer, the moment when they met fullon, when there was nothing left to hide between them again. Soon Sherlock wouldhave to confess, that or John would do it first. But he was beginning tosuspect that maybe there was something between the two of them, somethingsprouting in both of their hearts perhaps without them even realizing it. Therewas a connection between the two, something that was far more intimate thanfriendship and far more meaningful than just acquaintances. They were supposedto be lovers, and so Sherlock would continue the long and painful realization,hoping that maybe these days apart had given John time to reflect on just whathe was missing. So he set to the boxes, remembering which ones he had rootedaround in previously for the curtains. That felt like ages ago, back when hewas afraid of the lights and the shadows they created. Now his fears seemed tobe much more real, something that he could actually touch...something that couldactually touch him. Sherlock grabbed a handful of bedsheets; enough to make asturdy enough rope, and also a rather floppy sunhat that had been sitting offin a box of its own. That might be useful in hiding his face, just in caseAgatha happened to look out her window. As he was getting ready to leave withhis newfound treasures Sherlock glanced once at the bed which was sitting inthe middle of the attic, as if it was supposed to be the center of attention.His blood ran cold when he saw for a split second that it was not empty, notany longer. There was a figure lying upon it, a boy who he recognized, a boywhose face he might never be able to forget. Sherlock let out a loud scream,falling backwards onto the boxes of linens and holding his own bundle close tohis chest, so as to prevent the boy from coming any closer. Yet no, just assoon as Sherlock ha blinked the boy had vanished, making Sherlock wonder if hehad even seen him at all. Perhaps he was beginning to hallucinate, and createpeople who were never really there...Sherlock shook his head, running to safetydown the stairs without even bothering to turn out the light. He was sure he'dbe up again in no time, looking for other things which might make his escape alittle bit easier. So it turned out that Sherlock was no good at tying knots,or at least no knots which would hold his weight that is. He would tie as manytimes as he possibly could, knotting the thin fabric over and over again untilit felt basically unbreakable. Then he would tie one end to his bedpost andpull, but rather than taking the bed with him the knots instead began touncoil, and more than once Sherlock found himself flat on his back after hisstupid little cord broke and left him falling backwards unceremoniously.Thankfully he never gave up, and after trying a few of the fancier knots thathis father had taught him for fishing he at last created a bond that wouldn'tbreak, no matter how much weight he applied to it. Now of course the real testwould be the window escape, but for now it seemed that he should be safe as hecrawled down the wall. Oh Sherlock dearly hoped that John would let him in,that he would appreciate all the effort Sherlock was putting in to make theirreunion happen. He hoped that John was as anxious to reconnect as he was, aseager and as impatient. Perhaps he was even hatching his own plan to seeSherlock, maybe they would meet halfway across the darkened yard! Or perhapsnot. Sherlock didn't have much to lose, well of course he would lose his onlyfriend and love in the world, yet if they were caught all he would be was sad.John on the other hand would be without a job, without any money, or home, orfamily. John would be crippled, while Sherlock would just be upset. PerhapsJohn wasn't willing to risk his entire livelihood on the account of one boy hejust happened to take an interest in, or rather who happened to take aninterest in him. Perhaps their friendship didn't matter as much to John as itdid to Sherlock. Perhaps he was only playing along so as to have a rich bestfriend, or to get on a better side with the family. Well how did that work out,huh? Sherlock was surprised that Agatha didn't fire him directly on the spot,for daring to accept an invitation into the drawing room! It was absolutelyscandalous! And that, that was absolutely ridiculous. Sherlock hung his head,wishing that he might have been blessed with a normal heart that did not acheand break for mere stable boys. Oh he was born with everything else, looks,money...why could he not have been born with the capability to enjoy it? To lovethe girls who threw themselves at him, and to appreciate the class he was bornand raised in. But no, he always had to be difficult. He always had to berebellious, and break out of the bonds that were assigned to him at birth. Whoknows? Tonight might be the night that he finalized his love, tonight might bethe night when John finally admits his own feelings, and together they kissedin the candlelight. Maybe Sherlock would find out what came after kissing, whathis strange visitor had in mind. Maybe they would run away together, tonight!Should he pack a suitcase just in case? Sherlock looked around, realizing thathe had nothing in his possession that he would really hate to lose. A couple ofhis books, perhaps, and his favorite shirt. Yet they could keep those things,those memories of who he was in the past! If John asked him to run away therecould be no question of the matter, he would agree to anything. Even alifestyle that was deprived of enough money, food, or shelter. So long as hehad John by his side Sherlock would be satisfied, no matter how disgustinglyromantic that sounded. Every day would have purpose, every day would havemeaning! He would fall hopelessly in love, and they could be married withoutanyone's permission, without rings or priests or an audience. They could craftwedding bands for themselves and wear them with pride, they could wear themknowing that they meant nothing and everything all at the same time.