Chapter 4 – Go.
After his first chemotherapy section Sherlock threw up and felt sick for hours. John was right there, by his side. After his second one he felt weak and thought he was going to die right there, but John held his hand through the night and Sherlock knew he planned to do the same through all of the other sections.
That afternoon Sherlock was quiet, sitting on his bed, just thinking. John looked awful he was losing weight like nobody's business and did not have enough sleep at all, they were now living in the hospital and that wasn't making things any better.
"You should leave." Sherlock said. His hands were together under his chin and he was staring at the blankets.
"Sorry?" John said, he was just coming out of his own mind place that right now was the place where he spent most of his time when Sherlock was at exams.
"You. Should. Leave. Go John, just go." Sherlock said in a loud voice now looking at John.
"What the fuck are you talking about Sherlock?" John ran towards him, sat on the bed and ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, a huge amount of it came off in his hands and he felt like crying.
Sherlock looked at it and turned his eyes away, as if he was... Embarrassed? John just wanted to comfort him. "John, leave, please, go away." John turned Sherlock's face towards his to look in his eyes.
"Why? Why would you ask me that Sherlock, you know I can't, I would never..." John started.
"I don't want you to see me like this." Sherlock said and stopped himself from running his fingers through his hair in the middle of the action.
"Oh Sherlock, are you kidding me? Is this all about your hair? Sherlock don't be stupid they are going to shave it tomorrow and I'll be here, I'll always be, and that doesn't change anything, I love you, you are beautiful, Sherlock I live for you not for your hair. We are gonna go through this togeth...". "No John we're not." Sherlock stopped him. "It is not my hair, I just don't want you here. I... after all of this I just... I need to be with myself, I don't want to share my last minutes with anyone, I want to be alone. Leave, please." Sherlock said quietly. It was a lie, it was such a lie. He just saw what it was doing to John and maybe that was his only shot to stop hurting John. It was killing him -with no intended joke - to see John like that because of him. Sherlock could deal with guilt. God he could. But not this one. Not with the guilt of hurting John.
John got up from bed and stared at the floor. "I didn't realize I was... Bothering... You?" It was a question, in that John way of being.
"Yes. Please, go." John picked up his backpack and left, closing the door behind him slowly. And then he ran. He ran through the hallways until he was outside, but it was still suffocating, Sherlock was just everything. He wasn't able to lose Sherlock, but the possibility of losing him and not even being with him when that happened. That was just too much. He just kept running. Running away from the pain inside him.
Sherlock was sitting there, he didn't move since John left, and that was an hour and seventeen minutes before. It hurt more to know that John would leave so easily then to have to send him away. But it was better like that. He could die in peace because John was safe from suffering, from losing weight and not sleeping. Sherlock felt empty though.
The night passed by very slowly, Sherlock was considering all that he did in his life and it took him the night to decide he was happy with the final product. He was okay with dying like that. But he really wanted to do everything right. After sending John away he still had some people to deal with. He picked up his phone in the middle of the night and started typing.
I have a brain tumour.
SH
The answer came as fast as it was possible.
Sherlock, not a good time to joke with me. What are you up to?
MH
One thing that Sherlock learned from John's stupid movies was that, people apparently appreciate when you let them know they are a part of you life, that would probably work with the two next people, but not Mycroft... He had to try.
I know we don't say it, actually, we never said it, but you know I do.
SH
Another answer.
You know it is reciprocal. Where are you?
Sherlock didn't answer, he knew sooner or later Mycroft would discover, it should take around ten minutes, he texted Molly and Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson knew it, she brought him flowers and sat with him at least twice a week and bored him to death with her casual stories about Baker Street 221B. He liked it. He appreciated it.
In the morning Molly came and Lestrade with her, Mycroft showed up right after Mrs. Hudson left and he just sat there and looked at Sherlock, this went on for one hour, Sherlock stared back. Mycroft got up of his seat and came closer to the bed, looking to his shoes, he was seeing his baby brother, not that man in front of him.
"Well, it was a very pleasant visit my dear brother, I will come back as soon as I can, keep that in mind will you?" Sherlock nodded and watched Mycroft walk away. Mycroft knew.