JOHN
.
I know it should scare me
How I don't stop to think anymore
I'm starting to think that maybe
If I don't do it it'll hurt more
.
The blade slices my skin three times
Scarlet drips on ivory porcelaine
With only tears to cauterize
The stigmata of my deepest pain
.
I wonder how long it'll take
To go from managment to ending
When I finally completely break
And cut so deep I won't feel a thing
.
If my friend knows - which he must
He never says a word about it
He probably thinks that this is just
Another one of my weird habits
.
Or he thinks he's not one to talk
Cocaine, morphine and God knows what
Have taken much more than their toll
On him, so he leaves it at that
.
But just this once I wish he could
See that I need more than a case
Or a beer, no matter how good
To fend the demons that I face
.
I put away the razor and rinse my wrist
Watching the reddish whirlpool in the sink
Bandage the wound and unroll my sleeve
Regretting that I didn't stop to think
.
I put on a smile and get downstairs
To my friend lounging on the couch
He gives me one of his hard stares
And quietly mouths the word "Ouch"
.
He stands and for just one moment
I think we might just start talking
He can yell, he can shout, I'll take his rant
If it means the pain can start fading
.
But he just tells me Lestrade called
Dons up his coat and thrusts me mine
Next we're standing in winter's cold
Listening to that smart friend of mine
.
He talks about that poor girl's dad
And the way he let her down
He says it's just plain suicide
And says Lestrade's wasted his time
.
Back to our home in Baker Street
He takes up his violin and bow
A screech is all that my words meet
As the instrument suffers his rows
.
Meanwhile I'm trying to ignore the call
Of the blades, the meds and my own gun
As they promise to give my soul
It's needed rest, if I just let them
.
The ache is more than I can bear
And as I look at my flatmate
I know that whether I'm here or there
In the end, to him, it's all the same
.
So here I am, back at the sink
Razor heavy in my hand
I don't allow myself to think
As I let my sorrow command
.
Scarlet doesn't drip anymore
It's more of an actual flow
I watch without an once of horror
As it follows the rythm of his bow
.
The doctor side of me starts screaming
Tells me I have to stop it now
"Hurry, man! Stop the bleeding!"
Only I can't remember how
.
I sit on the edge of the tub
Feeling myself start to slip
I numbly think of the ruined rug
Mrs. Hudson won't like that one bit
.
I'm vaguely aware I fell to the floor
And the violin's fallen silent
I don't care, it doesn't hurt anymore
How I have longed for this moment
.
The last thing I see before darkness
Is the door opening and Sherlock's feet
I hear a "John!" full of distress
And feel strong arms wrap around me
.
My eyes close and I feel numb
I'm aware of him shaking me
Maybe that decision was dumb
As I die I mutter, "I'm sorry"