Chapter 4: What Lies Beneath?
Here we go
Does it hurt
Say goodbye
to this world
I will not
Be undone
Come to life
It gets worse
(***)
"What are you doing here?"
"What, can I not visit my younger brother without there being a reason?" Mycroft smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You never have in the past." Sherlock sighed, and Mycroft's false smile faltered.
"Well people can change."
"Not you. You're Mr Government."
"True enough," Mycroft studied his brother from the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the dark shadows and hollow cheeks, "how is John?"
Sherlock's dazzling eyes found his brother, a hard look in them.
"How do you think he is, Mycroft? He's got Alzheimer's!" Sherlock's voice cracked on the last word and his head dropped into his hands.
"You haven't told him how you feel about him." Mycroft made his way over to the chair opposite his brother.
Sherlock smirked darkly.
"There's no point. Anything new he learns now will slip his mind first. He'd forget in a day. He's going to forget me soon. And I think it's going to kill me."
"But Sherl-"
"His Alzheimer's is developing unnaturally quickly. Too quickly. He'll...he'll be dead within the week. His mind will forget how to work, which will start a chain reaction of organ failure. I-I'm scared." Sherlock said absently, his mind drifting.
"Surely something can be done."
"Mycroft, are you not listening to me?! I am scared! For the first time since I was a boy. I am terrified. I don't like this, I don't want this to happen, I want it to stop. Please, Mycroft, make the pain go away."
"I wish I could Sherlock, but-"
"Just...just go."
"You'll make it through this, Sherlock. I know you will."
"Just go, Mycroft. Please."
"My dear brother, I wish you the best of luck." Were Mycroft's parting words as he stood and made for the door.
"Sherlock?" A timid voice sounded from around the corner. Sherlock composed himself before calling out a cold 'yes?'
John shuffled awkwardly around the corner, his bathrobe draped around him.
"Did I hear...hear someone else?" John's words had begun to slur.
"Yes, Mycroft was here."
"Mycroft?"
Sherlock swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat.
"My brother."
"Oh. I didn't know you had a b...a brother."
"That reminds me, John. Maybe you should call Harry."
"Harry...that's...that's my sister?"
"Yes, John."
John was silent for a few minutes, deep in thought.
"I don't like...thinking. It feels like my brain has gone fuzzy. Or numb. Or...disappeared? I don't remember it disappearing. I don't want it to."
"It's only going to get worse."
"What is?" John looked puzzled.
"I...nothing. Go...go call your sister."
"Yes. Yes, Harry. I should call Harry." John mumbled as he sidled over to his bedroom.
"I can't do this." Sherlock whispered into the air.
(***)
[Sherlock's POV]
John. I love you. It's that simple. Why can't I get this right? I should tell him!
I can't tell him. I can't do it. I've never expressed emotion to anyone, and in John's current state of mind, it would merely confuse him.
But what if I don't get another chance? What if...what if he dies today?
What am I going to do without him? I never meant to become so dependant upon someone. Even as a child, I believed love as a fantasy, unrealistic, improbable. Impossible, even. I would look at couples walking down the street, see the love in their eyes, and wonder how that could ever happen to someone like me. Wonder if it would. Wonder if I would know when it did happen. Younger me needn't worry. I knew, the second I saw him. I knew the second he forgot his walking stick. The second he saved my life. The second he woke up screaming from his first nightmare in our flat. The second he looked at me. The second he defended me. The second I knew he was dying.
When I was twelve, I read Romeo and Juliet. I didn't understand why someone would kill themselves for something as simplistic as love. Why would someone give up everything, just because they lost one person. I didn't understand, and if it weren't for John, I still wouldn't.
I don't think I like being in love. It hurts. It hurts every time he gets a girlfriend, and lately, it hurts every time his Alzheimer's advances.
I need to tell him. I can't do this. He needs me, right?
Wrong.
I need him.
(***)
"It was...nice talking to you, Harriet. We should...talk again some time. Okay. Bye."
Beep.
John shuffled out of his bedroom, thirsty from talking for at least an hour. He tapped his foot as the kettle boiled.
"Sherlock!" John called out, and it only took four foot taps until Sherlock was right by his side.
"Yes?"
"I want to...let's play a memory game."
"John. There's something I'd like to say first. Something I've wanted to say for a long time."
"What is it?"
"John, I lov-"
"Sherlock, can we please play a game?"
"Why?" Sherlock sighed.
"We haven't been spending much time...together since I got...got...diagnosed."
"That's because I asked Lestrade not to give me any more cases until I give him the OK."
"Let's...let's begin, then." John shuffled over to his chair, completely forgetting the tea. Sherlock followed warily, sinking himself into his own chair with one graceful motion.
"OK, John. What's our landlord's name?"
"Who?
"Our housekeeper."
"Mrs...Mrs Hudson."
"What's my brother's name?"
"Mycroft."
"What's your sister's name?"
"Harriet."
"And your brother's name?"
"Uh...Harry?"
"Wrong. You don't have a brother."
"Oh."
"What's your occupation?"
"C...consulting detective?"
"No, that's my job."
"Doctor!"
"Correct. What's my name?"
John's mouth opened and closed in the same amount of time it took for Sherlock's heart to stop.
"I...I don't remember."
"You don't...remember me?"
"I...I don't know. Should I?"
"Don't do this, John, please."
"I-I'm sorry?"
"I'm not ready for this. Please, you have to remember. I can't..."
"I really don't know who you are, I'm sorry.."
"John. It's me. Sherlock."
"Sh...Sherlock? I don't-"
"John, please!" Sherlock cried out, crawling desperately to his knees in front of his best friend. John flinched back into his chair.
"John, it's me! My name is Sherlock Holmes! I'm the world's only consulting detective! I'm your best friend! You're my only friend!"
"I'm sorry, I don't...know you."
"I LOVE YOU! JOHN, PLEASE! I love you! Just, just remember me!"
"You...what?"
"I love you."
"But...I hardly know you!"
"JOHN WATSON YOU NEED TO REMEMBER ME THIS INSTANT!" Sherlock reached over and shook his army doctor roughly.
"Let GO of me!" John yelled in horror, and Sherlock flinched, but didn't let go.
"John, you idiot! Just...just remember!" John's fist collided viciously with Sherlock's nose. Sherlock cried out in pain as John stood, grabbing his jacket.
"John, don't go. Please. Please just remember me. I need you." Sherlock gulped, pinching his nose to stem the blood flow.
Without another glance at his best friend, John stormed angrily out of the flat. Sherlock couldn't believe it, but John left. Sherlock couldn't stay strong anymore. He couldn't do it.
He broke down.
(***)
All in all
You're no good
You don't cry
Like you should
I'll be gone
when you fall
Your sad life
Says it all
