Falling (JohnLock)

chpr. 16

Within a week, John had become familiar with almost every nurse on his floor. There were rumours. Secrets floating on a feather through air. Hushed words behind chaste hands, tiptoed steps shuffling through the halls. Whispers leaking in on every ray of burnt orange sunlight, swimming in between the floating specks of dust. John noticed. He noticed the glances he received, but didn't let on.

"...because of the detective guy, you know, the fake?" he thought he heard someone mutter on their way past. Every healthy thrump of the heart monitor was a burden, a disappointment, to John. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. The noise pounded into his brain, thumping and pushing through him.

"....heard he was trying to off himself but because of him? Hardly worth it," another whispered back. John's breath sped up. His vision began to blur and fade and swim in the bright lights, colours and icy coldness of the room. He heard the beats increase on the monitor, getting louder and louder and-

"Hello, Mr Watson. Am I interrupting?" a voice asked from the door and John looked up.

"What?" he rasped, his consciousness snapping into normality.

"My name's Doctor Smith", she smiled, holding out her hand to shake. Her suit was crumpled slightly at the waist, red shirt peeking through the buttons. John glanced down at her hand before glaring back up at her.

"I didn't ask"

"No, you didn't, but I told you anyway," she took a seat beside his bed, uninvited," Mr Watson-"

"Doctor," he interjected, his mouth set in a thin hard line.

"Huh?"

"Doctor Watson," he emphasised. The machine beeped, each one piercing the thick silence between them.

"Right, of course. Doctor Watson, at the hospital, we offer a special psychiatric progr-"

"I know. I used to work here," he interrupted again, his wrist throbbing in its cast.

"Okay, fine. We offer a special psychiatric program for those who are... chronically depressed," she smiled kindly, patience wearing slightly.

"That's nice. I'm not depressed, you idiot, I'm grieving," he snapped, scowling. She gave him a sympathetic smile, as she scratched her hand absently. A lock of hair fell from behind her ear, and he resisted the urge to fix it.

"Doctor Watson, do you know what the stages of grief are?" she continued on, pulling the hair back in place, not letting him answer, "Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance".

"What's your point?" he bit, voice hostile and unforgiving. He didn't like the amount of questions she was asking. It was none of her business. It was none of anyone'sbusiness. His hand smoothed the blanket around him, fingers pulling absently at a loose thread.

"There's no need to get touchy, John," she said calmly. His eye twitched.

"I'm not touchy!" he blurted and she raised an eyebrow in doubt. "I'm not. I'm just... I'm just tired. I am so tired," he confirmed.

"What are you tired of, John?"

"Everything," he hissed.

"Do you want to talk-"

"No! Okay? I don't want to talk about anything," he sighed, scratching his knee.She didn't understand.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she smiled after a few seconds, and left the room. As soon as she left, his face crumpled, his body was thrown forward in a heart shattering sob. The worst kind. The kind where your chest heaves, and your jaw works, but no sound comes out. Tiny whimpers escaped from behind the hand clamped over his mouth, tears tracing and caressing his cheeks. He screwed his eyes shut, more tears emphasising the redness of his face. His temples hurt, his lips drying out, his vision darkening around the edges. He sucked in a broken breath. The monitor was screeching at him, yelling, mocking and laughing. A nurse raced in as he curled on his side, and he knew her face crumpled in pity. Her hair was pulled into a tight, professional bun, but a few strands had escaped, dishevelled. She sat on the chair next to him, and patted his arm. "Shhh," she soothed, trying to calm him down.

"Leave me," he begged and she stroked his hair.

"It's okay, it's okay," she tried and his breath shuddered, curling into his pillow further and closing his eyes.

A/N: Yass hello
I'm back bitchess
Loveee meee