List of Failure
As John came home, the living room was dark; the only light came from the streetlights in front of the window. His date was a … disaster, John thought. The girl talked without taking a break. The worst was probably that nothing she said caught his interest. Of course she was nice and friendly and very sweet but John got tired of her stupid talking. He found a very cheap excuse and left very early, she won´t call him again.
Now, John sits in his favorite chair enjoying the darkness and silence of the flat. The only sound comes from the bathroom where his flatmate takes a shower or he hoped he does and not some kind of wired experiment.
The last time the shower was place of one of Sherlock´s experiments, John got the shock of his life, waking up in some kind of horror movie one morning. The bathtub was filled with blood. Human blood to be precise. He didn´t even ask where he got that much human blood or what meaning this experiment had. John shouted Sherlock´s name and the innocent looking man in question came. As John, after he took a deep breath, ask Sherlock to remove the blood so he could take his shower, Sherlock doesn´t got it why.
Living with Sherlock is like living with a child or a mad scientist or a coma patient. There weren´t only the days with blood in the bathroom or the nights with hours of violin play. There were also the days Sherlock lays motionless on the sofa and John had to stop himself to check his flatmate´s pulse. Sometimes in the morning, he wondered what mood Sherlock would be, before John opens his door to go downstairs. But he remembered back at the time short after his return from Afghanistan. It was the boredom that nearly killed him. The mood swings, the crazy ideas and the sudden change of a day got John enough entertainment and sometimes, he thinks it is too much. But he would prefer to die on a chase after a suspect then at home, alone in a gray world full of nothing.
In that point he understands Sherlock when there is no case or experiment or something else to do. He understands that boredom can kill and he tries to free both of them from that, if it takes place at Baker Street. Before Mrs. Hudson´s wall get more holes it already has.
The sound of the falling water stops, the bathroom door opens and light steps come closer. Without turning on the light Sherlock went into the kitchen and is looking for something under the sink. John knows the only item of interest down there was the first aid kid because Sherlock Holmes wouldn't search for cleaning substances. Sherlock came into the living room only wearing a towel around his hip. Finally turning on the light he gets a look at John sitting in the dark. Sherlock freeze on his place, like a doe caught in the front lights of an upcoming car. He stares at John and John stared back. Sherlock´s first reaction confused John slightly but as his eyes moved down on his flatmate´s bare chest his mouth drops. A long cut, shallow but it goes from one side of his belly to the other. The bleeding must have stopped but a wrong move and it could start again.
"What did you do?" John jumped up, his doctor mode kicked in. He closed the distance between him and Sherlock. His hand touched softly the area around the cut.
That seems to get Sherlock back to earth as he starts to move again and to John´s surprise backwards to get more space between them.
"Nothing. I´m fine. Just a little misunderstanding with one from the homeless network. I miscalculated his aggression in his drunken rage. The problem is solved. Nothing you have to worry about." Sherlock takes another step back during his talking.
John stopped this nonsense before Sherlock could run away; he takes his wrist and pushed him to the sofa. "Let me have a look. I´m a doctor, remember and like you always say 'your' doctor. You know it was the condition to put 'call ambulance and hospital visits' on the bottom of the list for 'what to do if one of your stupid stunts goes wrong' but only if you let me take a look at it. Keep your hands away and stop moving." Sherlock listened once in his live and let John do his job.
The cut wasn´t that bad. John cleaned it again and used alcohol to disinfect it. Stitches weren´t necessary. John was very thoroughly. He doesn´t want a sick detective with a fever, if it get infected. Getting Sherlock Holmes to take antibiotic would be an unpleasant experience.
First John thought Sherlock was a bit shy, because he had only the towel around him and as far as John could remember it was the first time he saw that much naked skin of his flatmate. He is a doctor, he always sees naked or partly naked people at work and is used to it.
As John starts to cover the cut and wrapped the dressing around Sherlock, he got stiff and as John saw his back, Sherlock´s shoulders fell.
John changed his position to complete his task as good as he could, his hands didn't stop as he saw the back and he didn't comment the black ink that covered it. First he was the doctor and he had to take care of his patient. After that they could talk as friend about the long list of names that were tattoo on the back.
As John had finished his work he turned his back to Sherlock to tidy up the first aid kid and give Sherlock a few seconds of privacy that the detective apparently needed.
Without turning around John ask: "Can I see it?" He wasn´t sure he wants to know, because it was clearly something Sherlock hadn´t planned to show him anytime soon. Only the canceled date and the fact that Sherlock was deep sunken in his thoughts to notice he wasn´t alone in the flat had led to this conversation.
The answer to John´s question was nearly to quiet to understand the whispered 'yes' and the sound of Sherlock turning around to show him his back followed.
Sherlock´s back where covered in names, all written down at different times and sometimes with long breaks before the next one followed. He starts reading the names, most of them doesn´t sound familiar and he don´t think Sherlock had ever talked about those people until a name appears he knows very well. Soo Lin the girl from the banker case and more followed. First John thought that these were names of people from all of his cases but for that there were far to less. Anyway if the names were sorted by date as it looks, is Sherlock collecting these names since more than 15 years.
Without thinking, John touched one of the first names. "Who are all these people to you? And why have their names on your back?" Not turning around Sherlock answered him. "It´s my list of failure, these names, the people behind them. I couldn´t save them." He explained it without emotion but John could see the pain in his eyes. How hat he tried to cover it. John knew that Sherlock feels emotion more than everyone else; he is also able to hide it better than anyone.
"Tell me about Victoria Jones." That was the name John´s finger was laying on. Sherlock closed his eyes, as to remember it or looking for her files in his mind palace.
"She was … a friend, I think." It takes over a minute until Sherlock starts to talk again. "She was someone I knew during my drug time. I lived with a few others in an old building. We shared our things, money, food, clothes whatever was there. We were both very young. I don´t know her exact age but she was around 16. I think I was 17 as I found her with an overdose, the syringe still in her arm. She laid on the floor her face was turned to the window. It was covered in teas and showed only pain. I hope the last thing she saw was the sky. I watched her weeks before. I could see something was wrong with her. She used more and more every time and if she came down from her trips she starts crying and looking for the next kick. I could have stopped her, maybe talk to her, ask what happens. She was not a genius but she was open for everything new and she wasn´t bored by the things I told her. If she didn't get something she asks me to explain it." A sad smile appeared on Sherlock´s face but darken again, seconds later. "Why had she to die alone in this dirty place?"
John just listened, he didn't dare to interrupt Sherlock as the detective told him something that private and filled with emotions. He looked down on the long list of names as Sherlock had ended. He assumed behind every name another heartbreaking story. Full of tears, regrets and guild. Together with the word 'if'. John takes his hand back reading again the names. The ones he knows he can imagine the stories behind, after what Sherlock had told him.
What should he do next? There was nothing John could say or do to make all these names disappear. The dead are dead and stay that way. Until it hit him, John jumped up over to the desk taking a black marker und coming back to a confused looking detective.
Sherlock didn't stop him as he took down the lid of the marker and writes something in small letters down on Sherlock´s skin, as John had finished, Sherlock looked down to read it. "… John Watson …?" A shocked look appeared on the detective´s face.
"You can´t just write down your 'list of failure' like you call it. You need the other side too. You need a list of people you saved." John eyes moved over Sherlock´s whole body. "But I don't think you have enough skin for this list."
Even more confused he asks: "I saved you?"
"Of course you did." John´s response came fast. "You gave me a live and freed me from the boredom that had killed me one day." The silent in the room was a bit embarrassing but John could feel it was right even if his cheeks became a slightly more red color.
Sherlock looked down on the name written on his chest. He covered it with his hand and closed his eyes to make sure it was real. "Thank you, John. No one before bothered to make it better." John smiles. "You are very welcome. Now you look tired. How about you go to bed or at least have a nap on the sofa."
Most times it was a fight to get Sherlock to sleep but not today. He nodded exhausted from his emotional outburst and let himself fall back on the sofa. John gets up to make more room for Sherlock´s long legs. With closed eyes and still one had on John´s name a peaceful look showed his face. John fetched a blanket and trough it over his flatmate.
If someone had watched them both tonight, people would definitive talk. He turned off the light and whispers a 'Good night' to the man on the sofa. The answer came shortly after from the sofa. 'Good night, John'
With a smile John climbed up the stairs to his room.