AN: Hello dear readers, this is a repost of a fic that I had. It was a song fic, but now it's a one shot. I guess I almost got into trouble with my original fic because I used a song that isn't in the public domain. I like posting on this site, so I changed it. I would like to thank the reviewer who pointed this out to me. Anyway, this fic is inspired by Johnny Cash's Hurt. Please read, review, and enjoy!

Hurt

Sherlock languished on the old, ratted chair and winced as he bandaged his newest wound. But a small smirk graced his pale, usually emotionless face as he felt the sting from the wound. This wound proved to him that what he was doing was worth it, it reminded him of the reality he had to leave behind. It reminded him that he was doing this for John. Sherlock had been gone from his dearest and only friend for almost two years now, and he had done many things to ensure John's safety, and he would do it all again if need be. So Sherlock grimaced through the pain and began to plan his next move.


Sherlock knew he shouldn't be doing this, but there was only so much he could take before exploding. John wasn't around to keep the boredom and pain away, so Sherlock's only hope was the needle now digging into his arm. It was the only thing that gave him any peace, and yet he knew that once he came out of his high, he would be bombarded with memories of John.

Even during his high, Sherlock could still see his friend's face. He knew that if John could see him now, that he would be disappointed in him. Sherlock had to do so many unspeakable things and he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing his only friend.


His mind continually whispered to him that he will never be good enough for John, all he can bring to John was hurt and pain. Through all the publicity and fame that John's blog gave to him, Sherlock could only give his only friend grief. That fame was but dirt compared to the light that John had illuminated within Sherlock's lonely life; and yet Sherlock continually had to bring pain to John.


Sherlock could never repair the damage he brought upon his one friend. Sherlock had to liar, steal, cheat, and even kill his way through Moriarty's web to ensure John's safety, but John would probably never know that. All John thought of him was of an emotionless, heartless machine that committed suicide in front of him.


Sherlock looked sadly at the photo he held loosely in his hand. The picture showed a smiling John as he placed his arm around the waist of his new bride. Sherlock was both sad and happy for his friend. John was happy and was moving on from the grief that Sherlock had caused, but at the same time, Sherlock could now never be a part of John's life without destroying the tenuous peace it now had.


Sherlock knew he would just hurt John if he came back into his life now, but Sherlock knew he was a selfish creature of habit and addiction; and John had become his greatest addiction yet. Sherlock knew he should start anew far, far away from his friend to spare him pain, and yet Sherlock couldn't bear the thought of going through the rest of his life without his friend. So, Sherlock took a deep breath and opened the doors, and prayed that whatever may happen now, that Sherlock could gain back John's friendship.

The End