Fight for Me

Chapter 32

As the three returned to the flat, Sherlock hesitantly turned to Lydia, whose face was still devoid of colour. The unresponsive look in her eyes revealed all Sherlock needed to know. He gently removed his coat from her shoulders, causing her to jump and him to mentally reprimand himself for his actions.

"You should sleep in a bed tonight, I'll take the couch," he informed her, prompting John to look at his friend in astonishment. He hadn't been entirely positive Sherlock was even capable of faking empathy, never mind making it seem so genuine.

Lydia, however, shook her head, "no, I'll be fine, Sherlock. I don't need to be a larger burden than I already am. I'll be fine on the couch."

"That wasn't a debate."

She opened her mouth to argue, but closed it upon seeing the determined look in Sherlock's eyes. So she nodded reluctantly and muttered a thanks as she made her way through the kitchen and into his room, her movements almost robotic.

Sherlock took a seat in his chair once he was positive that Lydia was going to follow his command, fully aware of John's gaze lingering on him. He steepled his fingers under his chin and tried to enter his mind palace, but John's annoying stare distracted him.

"Is there something you need, John?" He snapped, a bit harsher than he had intended.

"You just gave up your room for her."

"Yes, and? She did nearly get killed because of the situation I put her in. It seemed a fair trade."

He frowned slightly at Sherlock's comment, "right, that's not a fair trade, but I'm still surprised that you felt it necessary to give her anything in return. You don't usually care how your actions influence those around you."

"I still don't, but I do need her to work with me to take down the Rose Foundation and link it to Moriarty. Offering her my room did not come out of a place of empathy, I can assure you of that." Sherlock knew he was lying, but his words seemed enough to convince John and that was what was necessary at the moment. He would have to sort out his relentless emotions once he was given the privacy he needed to think clearly.

But even when John left, Sherlock found himself struggling in his mind palace. The scene of Lydia being strangled refused to go away nor could he delete it or any of the emotions that he felt in response. With a final sigh, he decided to tuck it away along with a growing collection of memories associated with Lydia as a reminder that he couldn't get close, not to her nor to anyone else.

"You have quite the collection here of me," a familiar voice spoke as a woman approached him, Lydia's form becoming clearer as she stepped closer.

Sherlock frowned, looking around his mind palace and wondering how this was possible. Lydia took another step closer, placing her hand on his cheek, causing Sherlock to inhale sharply at her touch.

"Is there something wrong, Sherlock?" She asked innocently, but Sherlock was sure that she knew what she was doing to him. She was, after all, a figment of his imagination.

But he finally found his voice, "how are you here? I don't want you here."

"Yes you do, Sherlock. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. And you don't want to delete any memories that are associated with me, that's why it never works."

"But why would I want to keep a memory of you nearly dying?"

She shrugged, "I don't know everything, Sherlock. But I reckon you don't want to lose any moment you've spent with me because you're afraid you will lose me."

"But I will, won't I? Even if I can protect you from anything bad happening while you're here, you're going to leave once your troupe returns from America. You'll return to your normal life and I doubt I'll see much of you after that."