Shock

Chapter 1 – Concerning John

It started when Sherlock had received a strange message, one from a man, claiming to be another him from another world. It seemed impossible to imagine. Yet, Sherlock found himself curious. He exchanged emails with him, sometimes more than once a day, sometimes only once a week. At first the other him was simply curious, what was different in his world, how had their lives taken different roles?

Then, one day, out of the blue, he received one question that would set into motion a spiral of events that would change his life forever.

'Tell me about your John.'

Well, that was a strange request. How was he supposed to answer that? Didn't this Sherlock have a John Watson also? Surely he did, otherwise he wouldn't have asked about 'his' John.

'Why should I tell you about him? He's brave, and that makes him an idiot. Yet, he's tolerable and useful, so that makes him a good acquisition.

He cares. He makes good coffee and he loses it with me, more often than not. But he's still around. Surprisingly so.
He's got much more in him than what he gives himself credit for. He's better than what he judges himself to be. A good man and a true friend.

That's John.

My John…'

He sent off his reply, curious about what he would get back. It came, only minutes later- faster than what he was used to.

'Sounds very much like the John in my universe. Tell me, does he still insist on dating useless, boring women? I am trying to find a way to kick that habit of his. It's proving difficult.'

Sherlock chuckled lightly, receiving a strange look from the man sitting on the chair opposite him. He ignored John in favour of replying to his unseen other.

'Unfortunately,yes.He'sdreadfullyattachedtothose.I'vebeentryingmybest,sometimesIsabotagehisdates,othertimes,whenthesabotagingdoesn'twork-whichisrarebutitstillhappens-Icomeupwithsome 'personaldrama'.Healwaysleavesthemtoattendtome.

Well… almost always…'

He thought back to that time, almost three days ago where John had flatly refused to return to the flat to help him with his experiment. It was something minor, something non-life threatening, something that could wait. But still, it had hurt.

'I believe between the two of us, the two most powerful minds in as many universes, we should be able to come up with a solution to this problem. It is difficult, with him maintaining his heterosexuality. If he were more flexible we could simply fulfil the needs he seems to have in all aspects, leaving him free to remain with us at all times.

Perhaps all we need to do is waver that resolve. Any suggestions?'

Sherlock blinked at the screen. That fast. Still smirking, he read over the email, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Fulfil all his needs? Well, didn't that sound interesting.

Still balancing his laptop, he quickly typed out a reply.

'I don't know about you, but I've came to realize that I don't want him to be with anyone who is not me. I am aware that that's selfish. But I'm Sherlock Holmes. And according to John I'm a selfish consulting five-year-old. What bothers me, though, is that I am aware of the implications. I'm aware that the fact that I want him to not be with other people means that somewhere along the way I've developed deeper feelings for him.

And as much as it pains me to admit it, that rather frightens me. Any normal person would say that I should act upon my feelings. But we both now how Sentiment and Holmes are two separate universes altogether. How can I act upon what I feel for him (which I'm yet not comfortable enough to label) if I have made the possibles and impossibles to keep myself divorced from feelings ever since I can remember?'

Sherlock re-read his email before sending it. It was rather open for him, he supposed, but then, if you can't be honest with yourself, who can you be honest with? And even if this man turned out not to be himself, they had been communicating for the last several months, and he'd already built up some trust.

Some.

The next reply was a little longer than what he'd been receiving lately. He moved himself into a more comfortable position, leaning back on the seat with his laptop more securely on his lap. A fresh cup of tea had appeared by his elbow and he blinked at it before looking up at John, a soft smile on his face.

He turned back to the computer and read the email.

'I have a perfect understanding of your situation, it is the same as the one that I am currently in. Lestrade, the Lestrade in my world, has noticed. (Now I regret having taught him the basics of observation) and he has suggested that I speak with John and tell him more or less what you just stated.

However I am afraid that that would interfere with the work. Without the work, I am nothing. It is what keeps me entertained, it keeps me thriving, it keeps me sober.

I doubt that even John Watson could replace that.

And John is a physical creature by nature. He is driven, as most men are, by the sensations of the flesh. How can I tell him, that I have never craved such sensations? That the only experience of such 'baser drives' that I have comes from my days as an addict-just one more resource to gain a fix?

I believe he would take offence at that. Or become concerned. Either outcome is undesirable.

I have been contemplating splicing his tea with monk pepper, but I am unsure as to what side-effects this could have aside from a reduced libido. And he didn't take too kindly to my efforts to drug him while on a case previously.

I am quickly running out of excuses for keeping him around. Though I am loathed to, I may ask Mycroft for help in removing his current interest (Becky? Emily Something. I don't want to remember). Though I would prefer to ask for your aid than his.'

Sherlock read through the email, his eyes scanning the page as he re-read it for a second time. Part of him felt guilty, like he was reading somebody's diary, but then, the person to whom the diary belongs was himself.

That made it alright, right?

'It's like a blind asking advice from a deaf. And I'm uncomfortable because I know, for a fact, that he is in a particularly intimate (and apparently serious) relationship with the daughter of one of his father's army colleagues. Something Morstan, I believe. I've tried the usual and it didn't work.

'Maybe I have to stop being so reluctant about other people touching me? If I think about that, I am completely, absolutely, utterly repelled by the sheer thought of people touching me… most likely because our shared history with drugs and the low levels we've reached to satiate our cravings. But the thought of John touching me…

'See, every time we go out in a case, one of us (namely me) always ends up bleeding. A punch in the face, a stab wound, a trip-and-fall, every time is something different. And although I'm reluctant about being touched, when John takes care of me (he does that) I feel myself relax. Even more so than it would probably be deemed normal to the hands of your doctor/best friend/flatmate/colleague.

'And I share your concern for the Work. I still consider myself married to my work, but I have to admit that ever since John and I started working together, the Work has improved drastically. Cases flow almost every two days. And I've told him as much. He isn't brilliant (not in our level at least) but as a conductor of light he is indispensable. And I thoroughly believe that my work would decay, should he leave me alone to have his dull little life, with a dull little woman and all that boring nonsense.'

He sat there, after hitting 'send', twiddling his fingers and tapping his thigh. He sat staring at the computer, hitting refresh over and over, finding himself anticipating the next reply. He couldn't help it, this man was enthralling. He glanced up and noticed John staring at him with raised eyebrows.

"What?"

"Nothing." John said, in a tone that spoke lies. "Just wondering if we have a case. You seem really interested in the computer lately."

"No. No case." Sherlock refused to elaborate as a beep sounded from his computer, telling him that he has a new message.

'Ah.Mary.Yes,Iamawareofher.Unfortunately.Asforthetouchingthing.Ihavealwayshadproblemswithpeopletouchingmeinthepast-thereareveryfewwhoareabletomanageitwithoutreprimand.Johnisamongthosefew.

He hugged me once. When I returned from my…absence. It was much nicer than I had imagined. If it wasn't for Mary I doubt I would have let him go.

John has told me, just yesterday that he intends to marry her. Hence my request to you for advice. Though I am still woefully unsure of how to approach him.

Perhaps I should simply explain all of this to him- though I do believe it may be too late. It will do nothing but offend him now. He will no doubt see it as a ploy to get him to stray from Mary.'

Marry her? Sherlock glanced at John accusingly, as if it was him that had spoken. But wait, what, absence? That didn't track. Sherlock couldn't think of any significant time that he'd spent apart from John since he'd met him, nothing to denote the description 'absence'. Was this one of the things that were different in his world?

Ignoring John's indignant glare, he typed out a reply. He needed clarification.

'Whatdoyoumeanyourabsence?You'vebeenabsent?Why?AndwhyshouldyouconcernedaboutMarywhenhehuggedyou?Whydidyoueverletgo?Iwouldgiveanythingtobeinyourplace.Iwouldn'tevenaskforahuganymore.I'donlyaskforhimtostoplookingatmeasifIweresomekindoftwo-headedsnake.

'I must've done something wrong recently, because he's been avoiding me. Maybe he's grown tired of me. Everyone does, sooner or later. It wouldn't be a surprise if John was included in that god forsaken and ever growing list.

'John would say to dive in… head first, come clean, say it like you have nothing to lose. I bet he doesn't know just how much I do have to lose if things don't go according to expectations. And as far as I'm concerned, I prefer to have John as close friend, than to bugger it all and lose him and don't have John at all.'

The reply, when it came, was not something that Sherlock had been expecting, but it did shed some light on things.

'I faked my death. Jumped off the roof of Saint Barts. It was to save him, but I think there was irreparable damage done due to the fact that he watched me and that I was gone for three years. It was during this time that he met Mary.

John isn't the type to push you aside, at least, my John isn't. He's probably worried about your reaction to something. He did something similar just before he told me of his engagement.

He wants me to be his best man. I'm not sure if I can handle that. But the alternative… I spent three years without him. Three years that he was alive, he was reachable and I couldn't. To reach out to him, to contact him would only ensure his death. Only after I subdued Moran, Moriarty's right hand man, did it become safe for me to return.

I only know that I cannot go through that again.

Though I do have an idea, I'm not entirely sure that it would work, and I would prefer to have your permission. I would also recommend that you do the same.

Show him this correspondence. Let our communication explain the things that we cannot.'

Could that be it? Was that why John would barely say anything to him? Over the last few days, John had been more and more absent. Usually, when neither of them had a case, they would sit together in the living room, John typing excruciatingly slowly on his keyboard, updating his blog, and Sherlock normally running an experiment or two, or three, depending on his level of boredom.

Recently however...

This was the first time in three days that they had been in the same room between cases. John had been hiding himself inside his room, or more often than not, spending his time over at Mary's residence. Sherlock was beginning to feel like the third wheel-which was something that had never happened with John before.

He re-read the email, thinking what the other Sherlock had said over. A three year absence? Sherlock wasn't sure if he could do that. But then...it was to protect John. From Moriarty.

Sherlock began to write as he thought.

'Moriarty.AlwaysMoriarty.

"Wait is that it? Is that his plan? Forcing me to leave? Break me by pulling me away from what I most value in life? Oh he is good. He really is. So that's how he's planning to burn me? He's going to make me watch John mourn me, he's going to make me sit back and watch as he remakes his life with someone else.

Thank you for the head's up, by the way.

And yes. I believe that 'accidentally' leaving these around will tempt him into understanding the nature of my… our feelings towards our respective Johns. The question is… what will change?

Will your John leave his Mary? Will my John leave his? Although not as advanced, his relationship with Mary does seem to be rather serious.'

He sat there, staring at the blinking courser with increasing agitation. There was more to write, wasn't there? More to say, more questions to ask. What exactly was Moriarty's plan? This would be affective, moreso if Sherlock hadn't got a warning. But... That couldn't be all, could it?

With a frustrated sigh, Sherlock hit send.

Waiting for the next reply was like a form of torture, and Sherlock didn't even notice John getting up and heading to his bedroom.

His inbox beeped and Sherlock looked at it, watching as the computer seemed to take a century to load the message. Surely the program was faster than that...

'I don't think that they will leave Mary. If there is one thing that John is, it's loyal. He will, however be willing to talk. To listen. Less likely to leave right away. I believe my John is inclined to move out.

I can't let that happen. John is now detrimental to my emotional, and often physical well-being.

If Moriarty tries the same thing with you, I have one suggestion to make. Don't let John watch. I thought that it would cause his reaction to be more genuine, the sniper would believe without a doubt that I was dead an therefore leave John alone. But…it was watching me fall… Being there when I "hit" the ground that caused him the most pain.

He still has nightmares.'

As he read through the message, images popped into his mind, John watching him fall, his face falling as his own body hurtled towards the ground, the panic, the fear, the pain. No. He would learn from the other Sherlock's mistake. John would never have to see that. Never.

One line stuck out to him- 'He still has nightmares'. Glancing up, he now noticed John wasn't around, he was in his room. He eyed the closed door for a moment before typing, his hands shaking slightly. Was it cold? Winter was nearly there, the heaters should be on...

'Stop. Don't… Just stop. In the end you managed to save him, Sherlock. I'd call that a result.

I still hear my John scream in the middle of the night. More often than not. We never talk about it, but I think he transported me to his nightmares. I've heard him screaming my name once. I don't want to hear that again.

And you are right. John is loyal. But who is he loyal to? Mary or us? If there is a chance, tiny as it may be, that John returns our feelings, then do you think that Mary stands a chance?'

He had hope. He could only hope.

Biting his lip, he reached for his long-cooled tea and took a sip, hardily caring that it was no longer palatable. He just wanted the reply.

'Ithinkhe'llbeloyaltoher.AtleastmyJohnwillbe.He'salreadychosenher.Hewilltellmethat,asalways,mytimingisbadandthatIshouldhavesaidsomethingearlier,andthathe'swithMarynow.

I know that he loves me, on some level, but he is not gay. Mary is a woman. She has automatically won, without ever having to fight for him.

I can't let him leave though. I simply cannot survive without him. Not sober, any way. You probably know as well as I do the temptation of the seven percent. If he leaves me…

No. I can't let that happen. I will fight for him. And you should too. Fight for your John before it's too late, before you have to leave. Give him /something/ good to hold onto.

Even if it's just your words and the knowledge that you would do anything for him.'

As he read it, his heart sank. This man, this Sherlock was right. John wouldn't choose him over her. He wouldn't. His fear manifested, he had to stop it, had to focus on another emotion... Anger! Anger would work. And..hope?

'Sherlock, do not embarrass me. I seriously, honestly can't believe in what you just said.

"John's not gay."

Okay, I will stop you right there, and if I had John's gun I would be target-practicing on you. I don't know about your John, but mine says that he's "not gay."

He just says that He. Is. Not. Gay.

I never heard him saying that he is straight.

Ever.

Not once.

Zilch.

So that is a lousy excuse. Now, I know me. I may know you. And yes, I do agree that life without John would be like a roller-coaster without breaks. But I am not a quitting type of man (which was a hard thing to overcome with our seven-percent friend), and if John did something positive to me was to keep me going. Keep me fighting.

He's a soldier. He does that.

And I don't know about you, but I'll let him know. I'll give him a choice and I will tell him that I will wait.

If he chooses her then…

Forme,there'sstilltheneedle.'

Hands still shaking, he hit the send button, realizing that it had, at some point, gone dark. He ignored it and continued to stare at his computer and drink his cold tea as he waited for a response.

It came almost a full hour later. He had just about given up hope, just about decided that the man had had his fun, toying with his emotions, that he wouldn't reply tonight, if at all.

But then, just as he was about to turn his computer off, his inbox chimed. It was with some trepidation that he opened the email.

'I admit, your response caused me to pause for thought. You are correct. John has never claimed to be straight, simply "not gay". With his army background, there is a good chance that he has experimented previously.

But then, why does he so adamantly refute the idea that he and I are more than friends?

None the less, you are right. As always. I will not let him go, not easily. I will fight for him. But first, I will talk with him. Explain this to him. Tell him the difficulty to which I find expressing my emotional needs. John will understand why I did not tell him this earlier. He'll have to.

You will let me know how your conversation with your John goes? I find I am quite curious about the parallels between our lives.'

That had him smiling. It sounded so like him, yet not. The odd word, a turn of phrase here and there. It made this seem more...real somehow.

'I like to be right. It makes me happy.

And about his stubborn protectiveness over his non-homosexuality, there is a simple reason, I believe. Looking back, the first night spent with John, while we were working on the 'Study in Pink' case (I can't believe I just referred to it like that) we went to have dinner at Angelo's. There was a rather awkward situation. I thought he was asking me out. And I promptly turned him down, saying that I was married to my work.

I believe that John took that seriously. I believe that he doesn't want me (or us) to be uncomfortable with the idea that he was, indeed, asking me out. I think that the fact that he's thirty-seven and living alone with another man isn't helping that either.

People talk. That's what people do. Little-minded idiots that take pleasure in speculating about other's lives.

I will tell you about my meeting with John. I you promise to tell me how yours goes.'

He sent the message and the reply came quickly again.

'Ah, yes. I remember that night. Big mistake. Had I known then, what I know now, I would have stayed silent, or even accepted. I will be sure to bring that up with John.

Doyoufinditremarkable,thatofallthe parallelnworldsoutthere,youandIwouldfindawayto correspond. TheremustbeagreatmanySherlockHolmesouttherewhoarestraight(whichIamdecidedlynot-Idon'tknowaboutyou,butIfindtheideaofbeing withawomangrotesque).OroneswhohavesimplynevermetJohnWatson.

Ihaveeven encountered afewJoanWatsonsinmytime.

Yet you and I, two Sherlock Holmes, have both found another to converse with that also, dare I say it, find themselves in love with our dear Doctor Watson… I would calculate the chances, but honestly, I am far too lazy for that. I have bigger things to think on.'

Sherlock chuckled at that. Joan Watson? Well that would be strange indeed. He tried to picture John as a woman and failed. Even an imagination as strong as he couldn't comprehend it. No. John was John. But even should he encounter John as a woman, would he still be interested?

It did leave him thinking.

'I don't think of myself as a sexual person. I've never even as much as 'wanked one through' - as John so eloquently put it. My libido seemed to have roused with him. I'm not gay, because I don't feel attracted to other men. I'm not straight because I don't feel attracted to women either. It's just him. Just John.

I guess I'm Johnsexual.

I have heard of a couple of Joans/Johannas/Janes too. Parallel worlds are rather funny.

I pity those of us that never met John. Just as much as I envy them.

As far as Parallel Worlds are concerned. I believe ours to be very close to the other. The only difference I found so far was your encounter with Jim Moriarty and your hiatus. Maybe, if we cared to put our heads to it, we could arrange a way to hop from one world to another.

Right now, however, I must confess I'm tired, to tired to go through that kind of mental gymnastics.'

And he was. Tired that was. He had been yawning while typing, his eyes aching from prolonged exposure to the computer screen. Yet this was fascinating. Amazing and terrifying at the same time. What if it was real? What if this Sherlock really was another him?

He was about to call it a night and nap on the sofa when another message pinged through.

'There do seem to be other slight differences in our pasts. For one, I have been attracted to men before. It has never worked very well, and never lasted. Before John, there were only a hand full of men, none of them stimulated my intellect nor emotions.

In that regard, we are the same. Only John can create this particular mixture of hormones in my brain.

As for 'hopping' from one world to another, I have heard of people managing this, though their claims are yet to be verified. Many of them have spoken of a rift in space/time. I have a contact who may know more about this. I will speak with her and report to you what she says.

There may be a version of her on your side, it could be prudent for you to seek her out. Her name is Gwen Cooper. She currently (in my world at least) runs the Torchwood institute, having temporarily taken over quite recently from a man named Jack Harkness (captain). If you can find either of them, they may know of a way for us to meet in person.'

Torchwood...why was that familiar? Oh! Weren't they a branch of the Welsh police? Those who dealt with the stranger crimes? Sherlock had heard of them, but never really interacted with them. Usually when Torchwood came to town, whoever was previously working the case would be unceremoniously booted out on their arses.

'I've heard about Torchwood before, I believe. I'm not sure I will manage to get in contact with them,but in case I do, I'll let you know. It would be… nice, I believe, if we could pop in each other's worlds. Although something tells me that playing with that kind of ability is rather dangerous.

Again, something to investigate in the near future. Probably after my conversation with John (which I am ashamed to say is scaring me quite a lot).'

Right...that was it. He would give the other Sherlock an hour to reply then... then he would go to sleep if he hadn't.

An hour passed.

Then another.

And another.

And finally, Sherlock decided to sleep.