Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 7: No Longer Welcome

7

Footsteps in the hall. He'd know them anywhere. There was a slight pause after every step that made Sherlock tense. John's limp was coming back.

He kept his eyes closed, fingers steepled beneath his chin in his thinking pose. "Hello John. Fancy seeing you here."

He tapped his foot impatiently. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about or what?"

"As you have mentioned once or twice before, I can be quite dramatic."

"You could have used the bloody door! Last week when you kidnapped my bloody daughter you used the door like everyone else. Apparently you've changed your mind."

"All that was for the sake of a, what do you call it? A pun-- Rosie's idea, by the way."

"I call it a pun because it's bloody called a pun, Mr. I-Know-Everything. You're a person like everyone else, and people use doors."

Sherlock opened his eyes. He hadn't wanted to look at John, to see hsi fury written all over his features. But he did. "How's Rosie?"

"She's not the one in the hospital."

"She's also not the one skipping meals John."

"You haven't been eating?" After all this time, John still tried to play him. Sherlocks felt his physical health was optional-- his mind was what was important. But John was different, and besides, he had a daughter to take care of.

A daughter who could see as well as he that John was in a very, very bad way.

"Don't think I can't tell."

"Can't tell what?" John snapped.

Sherlock adjusted his sheet. They'd taken his coat and made his dress in awful, itchy hospital clothes. The sheet was much more comfortable.

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, I've lost a little weight, I've been exercising."

"I saw you toss the sandwich over there."

"I threw it out before I even came in-- and I only did that because I'd eaten one at the house."

Eye contact for too long, based on the assumption liars looked away. His nostrils were flared. He wasn't blinking either.

"So you admit," Sherlock said, "that there was a sandwich."

"Yes, one sandwich. One. And I had already eaten."

People use less contractions when lying. Stiff.

"You honestly think I'm that daft?" Sherlock said, more for the sake of conversation than anything. He knew the answer: John didn't.

"I think you know the truth when you hear it."

You're right. And I don't hear it now. "

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

Trying to get off the topic.

"Because easy is boring."

"You scare me sometimes." Oh, here he goes. "Look at you, you've wound up in the bloody hospital.

"They brought me here because they don't understand me. That makes them afraid."

He had avoided the mental wards. It was easy enough for him to fake his way out, but seeing the others, some like him, some not, all different, all strange... it was as if the world was trying to tell him he belonged here.

In the world of cameras and needles and locks. Where people screamed in the night and were found dead in the morning. Where they studied your mind and drugged you until you were just like them, and if they couldn't they kept you forever.

"What else is there to be understood?" John snapped. "You broke into an elementary school!"

"Did you ask her why she brought me?"

John tightened his jaw.

"Imagine yourself at seven. You can do something nobody else can. You want to share it, but it makes everyone hate you. And they don't ignore you, no that's too good for a freak. They never leave you alone. They find you in back alleys and in your backyard after school. You wish you could go back and belong, but it's too late. All that's left is to convince them that you're a useful freak." He found his voice rising and closed his eyes again.

Calm. Don't feel. You are a mind, you are logic, you don't regret, you don't break, you don't cry.

"Rosie is fine! She's normal! She's just trying to copy you."

"Have you been listening to her?" He growled. "She doesn't need a father who tries to cut off the bits of her that don't fit."

"Am I really that bad of a father?" John began to pace. "I really don't think I am. I've been doing fine. I've been a good dad."

"You've been distant."

"I haven't been distant! We just had a talk, I took her to see her mother, I listened to her!"

"You lie to her."

"About what? A sandwich?"

"About your health. How long will you keep this up?"

"Sherlock, please. Why do you always have to do this?"

"I'm not fighting with you for my pride, John. Think about your kid."

John stopped, inches away. "My daughter's biggest danger is you!"

Sherlock felt his spittle as he yelled. He kept his eyes closed. "Can you honestly stand there and tell me that she's not worried?"

"And it means nothing if I'm worried? I'm worried about her, and you, and what you might be doing to her-- and-- and... I can't keep doing this if you insist on giving me a heart attack every day."

"I'll back off. I'll leave if you do one thing."

"What?"

"Swear to Mary's spirit you'll take care of yourself. That you'll listen to her."

Silence.

"Problem?

"You faked your death, and then you tricked me into thinking we were going to die in the subway. How far does your word really go?"

Sherlock bowed his head. "I can tell when I'm no longer welcome, John."