Chapter 1 - Fallout
Beneath the bridge, the waves crashed so hard against the cement structures that John could feel the reverberating energy from them. He watched carefully as the waves found the cement and were forced to retreat. Instead of curling around them, the white capped waves and broken water rushed so violently into the pillars that they were pulverized into spray. He wondered if he had spent his entire life just like that water, simply giving in when things got in the way. John Watson; always falling short of the man he'd thought he'd grow to be when he was merely fifteen.
He had been standing on the ledge for about twenty minutes, but to him, it felt like he'd only just stepped up there. The sound of sirens caused him to snap back into reality. He knew they were crying for him; that a crowd had already started to gather, but he didn't want to look behind him and prove it to be true. He just stared woefully down at the water, reminding himself that if he didn't jump now, they'd stop him from doing so later. He took a deep breath in and winced. His chest felt constricted from all the anxiety that he'd never let himself acknowledge but was right there with him, holding his hand, telling him to jump because once he hit the water, he'd never feel pain again. He wiggled his right leg a bit, and prepared to take that step off the ledge when he heard a voice - a voice so rich and deep he had to stop himself to hear what it had to say.
"How did you get so empty?"
Caught off guard by the question, he gripped the railing tighter causing his knuckles to turn white. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying so hard to hold back the tears that had yet to fall.
"What do you mean?" John tried to sound strong, but it came out as a whimper and he felt a lump in his throat. He refused to turn around.
"Well you've obviously nothing left to live for. Men don't usually take to standing on a ledge when they have a reason to feel fulfilled."
"You don't know a thing about me. Who's to say I don't have a reason to live?"
"You do- or you wouldn't be here right now."
John thought for a moment and realized he needed to find the courage to jump now, but for some reason, he couldn't get his legs to listen to his brain. They stood still.
"Are you going to answer my question?"
"I'm sorry?" John retorted.
"Never mind the question, I suppose. You do realize that the ambulance and police will be here shortly. You'd do well to change your mind, you know? By the way, the name is Sherlock Holmes. Mind sharing yours with me?"
"You should note that this is none of your business. Why do you care if I change my mind or not? I'm not telling you my name because it won't make any difference. I'm still going to jump. My name doesn't matter."
"Well if you won't tell me your name, I'll at least give you a short introduction of what I know about you already - you've been abroad. I'm assuming somewhere in a war zone. Soldiers never do come back with a clean conscience. You're alone, or at least you don't have any close friends or family to fall back on. It looks to me you haven't eaten in at least a week and your hair hasn't been cut in months. The way you're propping yourself up on that railing leads me to believe you have been injured. I'd hazard a guess, but I don't guess, so I am going to say you've been shot in your left shoulder. Probable dishonourable discharge. That's a hefty burden to bear."
"Who are you? How do you know so much about me? I mean… well, nevermind, okay? I really need you to leave. I'm going to jump now. Nothing you can say will change my mind."
John finally got his leg to cooperate and he shuffled it forward. Sherlock saw a faint glimpse of movement through the rails and leaped forward, grasping John by the arm right as he was about to plummet into the water. A group of policemen helped Sherlock pull John over the railing, and he began flailing and screaming "You should have let me die!" An EMT rushed in and injected a cocktail of sedatives into John's right arm and he slowly began fading into unconsciousness.
Upon waking up, John realized that he'd been sweating profusely in his sleep. He mumbled to himself "Fantastic, another nightmare. At least this time I can't remember it." He looked around a bit and realized that he was in an all too familiar place- a hospital room. He started to panic and he let out a scream. A strange man in a long black coat rushed in and John swore that he had caught a quick glimpse of genuine sadness on this man's face.
"Is everything okay?" Sherlock said, exhausted.
"Wait, are you that man? The man who talked to me on the bridge? What happened?"
"One question at a time, please. Yes. My name is Sherlock Holmes. You started to jump so I grabbed you. The EMTs had to give you some sedatives because you wouldn't calm down. You just kept screaming. And now you're here."
"Where is here, exactly?"
"Saint Bartholomew's Hospital."
"Why didn't you just let me jump?"
"Why don't you just rest some more?"
"I don't need rest, okay. I've had enough rest damn it! Now tell me why I'm alive when I should be dead!"
"The only person who believes you should be dead is yourself, and I'm going to admit that right now, I don't think you're in any position to be deciding such things."
"Oh, fuck off!"
"I actually do have to leave for now. An RC will be in later to ask you some questions. She'll be evaluating whether or not you need to stay here in the psychiatric ward."
"I bloody well won't! I'm not staying here."
"Other arrangements are an option, but I suppose it will be the doctor's opinion. Hope to hear from you later, John Watson."
"Wait… how did you know…" Sherlock turned and headed out of John's room and disappeared down the hallway.
John exhaled and realized that he'd been holding his breath since Sherlock had left the room. A million thoughts were racing through his head. Who is this man? How did he figure out who I was? Why is he sticking around after he stopped me from jumping? He had no obligation to continue further contact with me. A nurse came in and interrupted his thoughts.
"Oh, hello there, uhm, my name is Julie and I'm here to help you, okay?"
"You can't help me."
"Maybe not, but I'd sure like to try."
"Did you need to ask me some questions or is this a social visit?"
"Ah.. you seem to enjoy being rude."
"It doesn't hurt."
"Yes well, I do have some questions, okay?"
John let out a dramatic sigh.
"Right well, so how long have you been feeling suicidal?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters."
"Since I came home from Afghanistan. A few months ago."
"Do you know why you're having suicidal thoughts, John?"
"Because I just do. It's none of your bloody business."
"Okay. Good enough. Do you think you might attempt to take your life again?"
"If I did, I certainly wouldn't be telling you."
"Right, yes. Uhm, I believe I'm going to recommend you stay here at the hospital for a few weeks. I will talk to the doctor, and your weekly psych evaluations from our resident staff will ultimately decide how long you will be staying with us."
"Absolutely not. You can't make me stay here, it's against the law."
"If we believe you are in immediate danger of harming yourself or others, we can keep you here."
"There has to be another option."
"Well, this is not an option other people get, but a man who has done some work for our police force and the hospital has decided he will let you live with him for as long as he believes you need to. If for any reason, you decide to leave, you will be placed within our hospital's psychiatric ward."
"That Sherlock guy? Is he the one who said he'd do this? I don't even know this man, and you guys expect me to live with him?!"
"It's that, or you can simply opt out and stay here. Obviously paperwork will need to be signed if you do decide to stay with him. He's an odd sort of character. We're all a bit surprised he's even offered to help you."
"Yeah, and why's that?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to find that out for yourself, John. I have no idea how to explain him to you. He's a strange man. Above average intelligence. He has an almost innate ability to look at every situation objectively, regardless of a personal connection. He's a hard shell to crack, to be honest. But he's taken an interest in you for whatever reason. I'd take that as a compliment."
"Right well, I'm not feeling very grateful. When would I have to go stay with him?"
"As soon as you check out here."
"Can I at least talk to him again before I decide?"
"Sure. I'll send him in."
The nurse then stood up and started to leave, but right as she got to the door she stopped and turned around and said "I'm really sorry about your situation. Hopefully you'll feel better soon." Then she just closed the door. John was biting the insides of his cheeks again, trying to refrain from losing control. His tried to think about his situation but he couldn't conjure up a single thought. He closed his eyes and drifted for a bit. Out of nowhere, he heard that voice again - so rich and comforting. He almost started to smile but upon opening his eyes, he realized that Sherlock was standing over him. John coughed, and managed to bring himself back to reality.
"So you've decided you might want to stay with me, then?" Sherlock said, almost smugly.
"Why did you even offer to help me?"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a stranger. Neither of us know anything about the other and you're thinking, 'Ah yes, this man just tried to kill himself and I know nothing about him but let's invite him over to stay in my flat because that sounds like a novel idea.'"
"I need someone to help me."
"Someone to help you? I thought you were trying to help me?" John almost shouted.
"Well yes. We'll both help each other. I need your assistance, rather."
"My assistance? For what? Are you bloody insane?"
"You can calm down."
"You are insane."
"So I've been told. Well, the address is 221B Baker Street. Once you sign yourself out of the hospital, I should hope to find you settled in there."
"Do you even have an extra room?"
"Of course I do. I wouldn't have offered otherwise."
"Yeah, well you're a strange man, what else should I expect?"
Sherlock winked at John and strode out of the hospital room. John slumped back into the bed, and stared at the ceiling thinking about how his life had changed completely. He wasn't dead and a man he had never met before was saying, "Come live with me." and John can't help but feel a heavy weight on his chest again. He let out a sad sigh and whispered to himself, "He should have let me die."