Chapter 3- Guilt
A/n: oh my goodness! What did I do? I didn't get any reviews at all on my last chapter! Was it really bad? Did I disappoint you? Please tell me!
ok I think I forgot to mention about the' ****' things. I use these for particularly bad language that I don't really want to use. I'll leave it to your imagination! Don't worry though, I don't use them often!
In contrast to the last chapter, this one is quite short. I really need to sort out my chapter lengths
I really hope this one is better! I need reviews! Please don't be shy! Please enjoy and review!
SH
Thursday 17th Nov
An hour later, John went to bed. I didn't mind. I knew that, generally, he needed more sleep than me.
But as soon as he left the room, I felt lonely again.
It was funny really, how John's absence had affected me.
It was a bit like a blind child didn't know it was blind until someone tells it.
It was like that with me soon after I'd met John. I didn't know I was lonely until I had John, and then lost him.
It had also shaken me to find out how much my absence had affected him. I knew he had been depressed, you could tell by the slightly slurred tone, caused by the anti- depressants and lines around his eyes. I also knew he had been having nightmares. You could tell by the dark shadows under his eyes and the haunted look he had in them. He was also thinner. You didn't need to be me to know that.
But I didn't know he had been suicidal.
Until that day.
Every day in those 5 months, I had watched him, made sure he was ok, checked his blog (not that he'd wrote anything), watched his flat.
One day, I'd found him on the edge of St Bart's.
Ready to jump.
Arms spread wide as if about to fly.
In that moment, I had never been so scared, so worried, so full of pain in my entire life. The pain of it had almost been worse than getting shot.
I had run for him, about to scream his name, tell him I was alive, and tell him to stop.
But Mycroft had stopped me.
Thank bloody god that some of the hospital staff, including Molly, had managed to stop him before he actually jumped.
I hadn't realised that anything could be so emotionally painful, especially for me.
I now knew what it was like to miss a friend. I also knew what it was like to see a friend almost die.
The idiot had scared me to death. (Ironically).
And to think that I had put John through all that…
I tried to remind myself that John wasn't a sociopath, so watching me jump and seemingly die before his eyes must have been terrible.
And much, much worse for him.
It was after this when I had started begging Mycroft. I realised that I needed John as much as he needed me.
I groaned into the cushion.
An unfamiliar twisting sensation knotted my stomach painfully. Some sort of emotion I couldn't suppress, I suppose, though I didn't know what it was.
Suddenly, I heard a shout from upstairs. I lifted my head and sat up. It was John who had shouted. How strange.
Then suddenly:
"Sherlock!" he screamed.
I sprang to my feet and raced up the stairs, blood pumping with adrenaline. God how good would it be if it was a thief. Some excitement!
I smashed open the door and leapt into the room.
There was no one there. John was sleeping in his bed, face contorted with. Was it pain? I wasn't sure. But there was no one there. Suddenly disappointed, and more than a bit confused, I turned to go. Then:
"Sherlock, no!"
I turned again, John was asleep but his arm was outstretched, his body quaking with sobs. Tears were on his cheeks. The sheets were tangled around his legs from where he'd been thrashing. He was moaning and screaming.
It was then that it hit me.
It was a nightmare…
More than that.
It was a nightmare about me.
And I was willing to bet it was a nightmare about the day I jumped.
It terrified me to see him like this. So torn and broken and vulnerable.
The twisting in my stomach got worse, almost physical, and I felt slightly sick.
Should I wake him?
I saw his shuddering body.
I went to him, staring at his tear streaked face.
But before I could wake him, his body stilled, and it seemed like the dream had subsided.
I left feeling worse.
A/n: Please let me know what you think! Is it ok?
