The phone kept ringing. Why did it ring now? I really don't wanna answer. Stop it. Sherlock was sitting on his chair with his arms around his legs feeling irritated. That bloody phone had been ringing all day. It's probably Mycroft. And I don't want to talk to him. He probably wants me to help him with that case. But I talked to him about it yesterday and I'm not interested. It's up in Wales, and the drive and the distance... Too much effort. I declined already. Why can't he do anything himself? Mycroft said it was an important case but I didn't listen to be honest. He needs to do something himself. Why come to me? And he's gaining weight again, he needs to move more. It's good for him. No. I don't wanna talk to Mycroft today. Not today. Today I feel like sitting still and solving problems. But the fact Sherlock had to face was that there wasn't anything to solve. Nothing. You should've taken that case, a voice said to him. He shook his head. No, that's Mycroft's doing. It had been quiet though, for days. But not really quiet when that bloody phone kept ringing.
- John, can you turn the phone off?
No answer.
- John?
No answer again and Sherlock realized that John wasn't home. He was at her place again, what's her name? Annie? Sophie? Maria? Sherlock stopped. What am I doing? Why am I trying to remember her name? Sherlock shook his head again. That's not worth remembering. She's gonna be gone soon anyway, like the others. The phone rang once more. If that phone would just stop ringing it would be great thank you. That's the 17th call today. Maybe I'll answer when it gets to 25?
It rang again. And again. And again. Sherlock started to feel the anger picking away inside of him. It tingled under his skin. Picking. It rang again. And again.
- If you ring one more time I swear to god I'll throw you out of the window, Sherlock shouted to the phone!
And the phone rang again. Sherlock stood up and grabbed the phone, opened the window and threw the phone outside. He looked down and saw the pieces of the smashed phone on the street. Ahh, finally some peace and quiet. He felt pleased with himself as he went back to the chair. But it had only been a few minutes when he heard a knock on the door. If I don't respond, they will go away, he thought.
- Sherlock, are you in there? He heard Mrs Hudson's voice on the other side of the door.
- Go away! Sherlock growled.
- William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Open this bloody door!
- But I don't want to.
- Do as I say!
Sherlock rolled his eyes, got up from his chair, opened the door and let Mrs Hudson in. She looked very concerned which made Sherlock feel strange. Why is she looking at me like that? I don't like it.
- Oh Sherlock, she said.
- What is it?
- I really don't know how to tell you this, she said.
- What's going on? Is John alright?
- He's fine dear. Don't you worry about him.
- Oh... But if he's fine, what's going on then?
- Your mother called me Sherlock. She's been trying to get in touch with you all day, but you haven't picked up the phone.
- I don't have a phone anymore.
- What?
- It was best for both me and the phone, Sherlock said.
- Oh, how you're talking Sherlock. We should sit down.
- Why?
- Cause I have something to tell you.
- You can tell me while I stand up.
- I think you really should sit down Sherlock, Mrs Hudson said.
It's there again Sherlock thought. That expression on her face. She looks so sad and concerned. Why is she looking at me like that? I don't like it. John, make it stop. Make it go away.
- I prefer to stand up.
- Oh alright, you're so stubborn Sherlock.
Mrs Hudson took a deep breath.
- There has been an accident...
Mrs Hudson talked on but it was fuzzy in Sherlock's brain. Sherlock's first thought was John. But then he realized that Mrs Hudson had said that he was fine.
- Mycroft... she continued
Brother. He felt his body go numb. Oh god, what have you done? Mrs Hudson was quiet now. Has she explained it all? Why couldn't I hear the words?
- What... what happened? Sherlock said plainly
- Oh Sherlock. Didn't you hear me? There's been an accident. Mycroft was on his way up to Wales when he lost control of his car. It swerved onto to the wrong side of the road, one car drove into his car and then it crashed into a tree. It didn't even look like a car in the end.
Sherlock stared in front of him. Trying to cope with this information.
- Mycroft?
- It looks bad Sherlock. He's in the hospital now. You're parents are there. He's in a coma and they don't know if he's gonna make it. Too much trauma to the body. That's all I know I'm afraid.
Sherlock continued to stare in front of him. Standing perfectly still.
- Oh Sherlock. I am so sorry, Mrs Hudson said, is there anything I can do for you?
Sherlock shook his head slowly, still staring in front of him.
- Do you want me to stay with you?
Sherlock shook his head again.
- Are you sure? Mrs Hudson asked
- I want you to leave, he said quietly.
Mrs Hudson looked at him, concerned.
- If that's what you want I'll leave you alone. I'm downstairs if you need me.
She turned around and walked slowly to the door. In the doorway she stopped and turned around.
- I am really sorry Sherlock.
When Sherlock didn't respond she went outside and closed the door. Inside the room Sherlock's head started to spin. Mycroft's been in an accident. Maybe he won't make it. "It should've been you in that car", a voice told him. "If you hadn't declined that case he would've been fine. It's all your fault Sherlock." Sherlock started to spin around with his hands tightened. He put his hand up on his face then up in his hair and pulled it hard, like he wanted the voice to disappear. "It's your fault, your fault. If you hadn't been so stubborn in the first place." Sherlock started to rock his body back and forth. He made noises, moaned, squealed and growled. But he didn't notice that himself. "It should be you in that hospital. You!" Sherlock couldn't move, he couldn't function. He ended up on the floor, curled up hugging his legs and rocking back and forth. It should've been me, he thought. They're right. It's my fault. If I hadn't declined the case Mycroft wouldn't have been on his way to Wales. It's my fault. It should've been me. It should've been me. It should've been me. It should've been me...
It had turned dark in the room when Sherlock heard the door open. He was still sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his legs, his head on his lap and rocking back and forth. He had lost the track of time. He didn't feel anything. Something wet had been running down his cheeks, maybe it had stopped now? But he was empty inside. He didn't even look up when he heard the door open. He didn't care. Mycroft was in a coma and it was all his fault. It should've been me.
- Oh my God, Sherlock.
It was a familiar voice, John's voice. But Sherlock didn't move. He was stuck and didn't know how he was able to live with himself after this. It's my fault. It should've been me. He heard John's footsteps walking towards where he was sitting. Then he felt John's hand on his shoulder.
- Sherlock, are you ok? Can you hear me?
Sherlock didn't respond. He wasn't able to. But when he felt the warmth from John's hand on his shoulder he leaned against it slightly. But still he wasn't able to look up. It should've been me.
- Sherlock. Please say something.
John's hand started to slowly stroke him on his back, spreading the warmth in his cold and empty body. He leaned against it, wanted the warmth, needed the warmth - needed John.
- I heard about Mycroft... I am so sorry Sherlock.
The words made the wet start to run down his cheeks again. John was now sitting in front of him and held both his arms around him. John was quiet now. And Sherlock felt the warmth from John's body on his legs and the warmth from his arms and hands on his back. His head was resting against John's chest. And slowly Sherlock started to relax. His muscles that once were tense and frozen started to feel the warmth and relax. His body didn't rock back and forth anymore. His fists weren't tightened. John stroked his hand over his back. And slowly Sherlock became aware of how close they were sitting. He started to become aware of John's body tight against his own. John was comforting him, helping him. Something tingled inside him, touched his heart. What would he do without John? Who would he be without John? And Sherlock realized that he didn't want to know a life without John. And being this close to John, oh how he wanted to stay like this, disappear in John's strong arms and stay like this forever. But he couldn't act on feelings around John. He'd always kept his feelings hidden, deep inside. But now...? Who cares? Mycroft was in the hospital, maybe he's dead...? Sherlock didn't care. Did he care about anything in this world? Yes he cared about John Watson. The John Watson that was holding him tight in his arms right now. Slowly Sherlock moved, a small move, not to scare John away. He still wanted to stay like this, he just wanted to feel him more. He moved his head and soon his cheek was against John's. The warmth from John's bare skin against his hit him and moved something somewhere deep inside. He should move away now, but he didn't. Instead he moved his head closer against John's face. He closed his eyes and let his lips find John's. He kissed John slowly, moved his lips against his, feeling his soft lips. It only lasted for a few seconds, because John moved away from him. Stared at him. But did not say a word and did not let go, he still held his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock stared back but he didn't reflect on the fact that he had kissed John. He just looked at John and then he crawled back into his arms and stayed there for what seemed like an eternity at least. And then slowly he fell asleep