Sherlock's POV
I've let John see too much. I pick up my dressing gown from the floor of my bedroom with shaky hands. Shaky hands? I don't get shaky hands. Not when I'm not in withdrawal. I look down at my hand incredulously. How can this be happening? I squeeze my eyes shut and run a self diagnosis by opening my mind palace. I enter my emotion memory room. I say my symptoms: shortness of breath, sweating, shaky hands ( I add, much to my annoyance), oh and irritability. Molly appears behind me with a clipboard.
"Anxiety."
"From what?"
Molly sighs. "Sherlock, you're about to open up to John. He now knows about your suicidal thoughts. You don't know what that means for you two. You're worried about him leaving you. You think he'll leave."
"No, it can't be that."
Mycroft appears. "Sentiment." He tuts.
"He has the right to be anxious. He's going to... that place again." Molly argues.
"Exactly."
Molly disappears.
"Sherlock, you must control yourself. It is in dire importance that you do. One second to break..."
"A thousand to pick it back up." I continue.
"Forever to repair."Mycroft finishes.
I nod at him and remove myself from my mind. I know what I have to do. I force my hand to stop shaking. I control my breathing. I control myself. I build walls around my emotions. I will not let them show. I will save them for later. Do what you've always done. I change my face, check it in the mirror. Relaxed, faintly bored. No, I've just been through a traumatic event. I narrow my brows slightly. Fold my arms, without too much uptightness, to show I am sulking like I need reassurance. Perfect. John may go easy on me. Lord, I hope he does.
I put my dressing gown. I walk back into the room slowly and sit in my chair. I look at John and wait for him to make the first move. I've promised I'd answer his questions and I will, truthfully (for the most part, the important things). I cannot show him weakness. I set my jaw, preparing to deal with whatever John throws at me. Let the show begin.
"Say something. I asked you to ask me whatever you wanted too." Sherlock prompts me.
John's POV
I have been quiet for a while, trying to gather my thoughts. It's a lot to process. Sherlock is suicidal. He tried to die, meters away from me. He would have let me discover his body, his dead body. I can't believe he'd do such a thing. It's selfish. He want escape the pain of the world by ending it. But the world doesn't end for us, for the people that care about him, it just darkens. Blackens until it snuffs all the light out. He's staring at me, expectantly. He looks relaxed which bugs me a lot.
"How can you be bored?" I say furiously.
He lifts his head up, confused.
"You haven't spoke."
I notice his calm posture for the a thousandth time. So casual and... out of place. I just don't understand it. He must be faking it. No way can he be bored. He must feel guilty for trying to kill himself. Or cheated. Or annoyed. He must at least be angry at me for making him go to a psychiatric hospital. He must feel something. He must. Why pretend? I know he doesn't want to have a breakdown but the will if he keeps on suppressing his emotions. He must let some of it out. I wish he'd trust me enough to do that.
"You want me to speak?"
He nods.
"Fine. I will speak. I'm not afraid to let out my emotions." I dig.
"Please! Carry on. I'd love to hear all about your emotions." He pleads sarcastically.
What is wrong with him? Earlier he was almost crying. Now he's being cold hearted? He knows how upset I am. How much I hate him right now. Now he's trying to belittle me? I thought we were getting somewhere. If a near death experience can't get him to talk about his feelings then what will? If I can break this façade, I'll be able to help him. He obviously can't cope on his own. If he could, we shouldn't be here. What did Mycroft say? To use his care for me as an advantage?
It's all heating up. Leave a review, telling me what you think about the story so far.
