AUTHOR'S FIRST NOTE
I never thought I would be back here so soon after I finished my last fic but I managed to write a really short story but maybe even more heartbreaking than all the other stories I have written. Also, I got to work with a different writing style than I usually do. This is a season four fic with the simple aim of speculating in what John had written in the letter Molly gave to Sherlock in The Six Thatchers and what happened from there. Content warnings for spoilers for The Six Thatchers, graphical depictions of drug use and looooooads of angst!
Now then… Let's cry a bit, shall we?
MEN LIKE YOU
Sherlock,
You know people have told me many times during these years that I should have stayed away from you. I'm sorry to say that I didn't realise what they meant until it was too late. The lies have been too many and now they have destroyed us. We trusted you but you tricked us and this I blame myself for. I should have realised a long time ago that men like you can never be trusted. If I had, maybe my wife would still be alive and Rosamund wouldn't be motherless.
Don't try to visit and don't try to contact us. Don't try anything. I don't want you anyway near my daughter, anyway near my family and I want you to respect that.
/ John Watson
He read the note over and over
Until he had memorised every part
Until he had visualised every connotation and pronunciation
While slowly feeling the taxi depart
Control... Control! Stay calm!
There was nothing else he could allow
But the truth had been torturing as it was
That he had failed to keep his only vow
Now he had no plan or solution
For once, he didn't know what to do
Molly's words still rang loudly in his head
"He said he'd rather have anyone but you."
Composure collapsed into torment
Suddenly all he could feel was pain
The reality of what he feared the most
That John Watson would never see him again
His eyes became empty
Only stared blankly into space
"I'm sorry, I changed my mind."
"Where to then, mate?"
The drug den was large
Its rooms dark and cold
He knew this, he had been here before
When he was 16 years old
The dealer was in a hurry
His hands shook of his own use
Heroin addict with abstinence problems
Economic ones too, way too simple to deduce
He waited for John to object
To stop him before it all had begun
But John was gone, John didn't care
"A syringe, do you have one?"
Sanitation was of zero importance
Whatever available would be fine
John's voice echoed in the dealer's
"Here. Use mine."
He removed the coat and jacket
Pulled up the white shirt sleeve
Wrapped his black belt around the upper arm
He loudly urged the dealer to leave
He pushed the needle into the usual vein
Experienced, without a single leak
Repeated the words over and over
Men like you...Men like you... You freak!
The high increased slowly
As the cocaine entered his stream
Finally it began to numb his senses
Until it all felt like a bad dream
He hit his head with considerable force
When he slumped down onto the floor
Trembled while preparing the syringe again
This time with even more
No one knows and no one will care
He forced himself to keep breathing
The room is empty, he was alone
Why did he still hear a man screaming?
Save him, save John Watson
That's what Mary begged him to do
How? How did you do that?
When you needed saving too?
AUTHOR'S FINAL NOTE
*sobs* Okay, I'm done crying now. *dries tears*
It has been almost a year now since season four and now I finally managed to write this scene in a way that would do the angst of the scenario justice. I have never been quite so emotionally torn apart by something I have written as I felt after writing this one. Sometimes I read my fics out loud to hear how the language sounds. I have cried to some paragraphs of my "John fics" before but this one just took it to a completely different level. I have worked on my version of John's note for a while but the rest of the text came to me over three days, which is an extremely rapid and unusual work pace for me.
So how have I thought when writing this one? I had this scenario in my head that right after Sherlock leaves John's flat and reads the note in the taxi at the end of The Six Thatchers, he is on the way back to Baker Street. That note is the final straw and he feels himself lose emotional control and the pain of it. To make it worse, he have no idea how to make things better. In the end, he can't handle it and changes his mind and goes off to numb everything in a dark drug den with a whole lot of cocaine.
[Un]fun fact: The first words that John ever says to Sherlock are "Here. Use mine." I wrote that down and then realised what I actually had done...
What did you think about the poetic structure and the synopsis? I think I might continue with this writing style once in a while! Maybe I should make another fic with chapters like this as "stand-alones"? As always, if you like my work, please Comment and Follow & Favourite! You can't believe how much it means to me!