(Whew! That's that… I am one of those readers who usually waits till a story is completed before I read it. It's a selfish habit, but better than being disappointed when really good stories are left halfway. This is the first story I have posted. I love writing, but I equally hate typing. What I really want to say is that I need to know if this was good enough to leave the pages of my diary; for me to continue posting other stories… so please review!)
CHAPTER 7
FOLIE à DEUX
John wasn't speaking to him.
It had been two whole days since he had fallen asleep holding his hand. The reasons for such an illogical action still eluded him. Even now when he woke up after every drug induced slumber, he was afraid to open his eyes before hearing John move in his chair or talk. Stupid…irrational…illogical…
But whenever he had woken up John had been there; silently keeping vigil, his expression indecipherable.
In these two days, John had only spoken to him to ask if he needed anything, or while helping him to the attached bathroom. Thankfully his brother had restrained himself from making an appearance. The doctors were tapering off his painkillers, which was also contributing to his irritability. The cherry on the top had been Lestrade; who had finally decided that it was high time, and had dropped in to record his statement. John had opted to wait outside. He had been very short with Lestrade, snapping short answers and sulking. But the DI was nothing if not experienced in dealing with him.
"So you have no information about this mystery caller other than the fact that Catherine Adair called him 'Professor'?"
"If you ask me that same question one more time, Lestrade, I will make you regret it sorely the next time you organize a press conference."
When Lestrade had finally shut the recorder off along with the DI persona, his face held nothing but concern.
"Alright Sherlock, new question…mind telling me why Dr. Watson thought you were high, on the night of the attack?"
"I am clean, as my blood work undoubtedly showed you."
"That was not my question."
"However, that is my answer. That is all you need to concern yourself with."
"Sherlock!" His voice rose, the way it had during the fake drugs-bust. That particular nuance in his voice always made him feel like a truant child sitting in the Principal's office. Even Mycroft was not able to do that.
He did not know what particular expression was on his face right now, but Lestrade's voice softened as he continued, "You fooled a Doctor, a good man, into thinking you were drugged. He walked into that room because you needed him. That showed implicit trust even when he thought you were a drug-addled junkie; and you broke it. I know that it should be none of my concern since you didn't break any laws. I also know that you probably are the smartest git on the planet and you probably had your reasons. I just hope they were darned good ones."
Sherlock had no answer….
By the time Lestrade left, he knew enough to realize what was gnawing at him beneath the veneer of anger and irritation. John was going to leave him. It would not be because of his habits, his personality, or the back to back hostage scenarios, but because he felt betrayed.
You wanted it, he told himself savagely. But he didn't feel the euphoria of reaching a goal. He felt…hollow. While putting all his devious plans in motion, he had not taken time to contemplate life without John; one minute of which had sent him into a full-fledged panic attack. You felt guilty, that's it… you've known him only for three weeks; get a grip on yourself, his rational mind was chiding him.
John was leaving. The only reason he was still here, was because he was too much of a gentleman to do so when Sherlock was lying in a hospital bed.
As the mere possibility took very real shape in his mind, he found it had become very difficult to breathe. There was no heart monitor to betray him this time. His rational side was disappointed; another panic attack, how dull! He suddenly wanted to sit up and put his head between his knees; something he hadn't done since he had been six years old. But he couldn't move. So he was reduced to writhing on the bed, trying to shrug his bedclothes off. That was the moment John chose to enter the room. He took one look at him and was instantly at his side; hand on his wrist, checking his dressings, face wrinkling in concern.
"Sherlock", his voice was urgent. "What happened? Does something hurt more?"
His pride made it easy to mask the fear with anger, which coloured his tone, "Why are you still here?"
John's face closed off again. "We can talk about that later."
"And when would that be?" His voice was sarcastic. "Tomorrow… the day after… or the day of my discharge maybe. I mean, why bother? You are probably already packed. Why the show of sticking around?"
"Well, technically, I would have been packed AND gone by now, if your psychopathic ex-girlfriend hadn't shown up."
"She was not… that doesn't matter. You want to leave… just go."
"Okay, sorry to point out the obvious, but I never wanted to leave. You wanted to make me leave. So why the bloody hell are you upset?"
"I am not upset."
"You have a pulse rate of 120. You are sweating bullets and your breathing is one step shy of hyperventilation. Unless you have taken a sympathomimetic again, like you had before, in order to fool me…"
Sherlock winced at the reminder. "I'm in pain."
"If you say so", he turned away bitterly.
"John…"
"No!" He whirled on Sherlock, eyes flashing. "You don't get to use that tone with me. You manipulated me, Sherlock. I'm not your bloody puppet. You made me question every decision I made, since meeting you. You convinced me that I was an unwanted burden. I had thought that being invalided home had been the lowest point of my life and you proved me wrong with your little stunt; made me feel completely worthless. Well done…"
"I WAS WRONG, ALRIGHT", his voice broke. I was wrong…I'm sorry…" Sherlock closed his eyes defeated.
"I guess twelfth time is the charm."
Sherlock's eyes snapped open. There was no trace of anger either in John's face or voice. Instead there was a playful smile lifting the corners of his lips. What! He was nonplussed.
"For a man who never apologizes, your first time was quite something. You managed to say 'I'm sorry John' eleven times when you came to, two days back; before you realized I was not dead."
"You…you…" Sherlock Holmes found himself speechless for the first time in his life.
"But that was you hopped up on painkillers and guilt. So, this one gets to be the first."
He was staring at John, as though seeing him for the first time.
"Yes, this was an act and you deserved it. Lucky for you, a sincere apology was all I wanted. Lucky for you, I'm the kind of man who believes that actions speak louder than words." His eyes darkened as they swept over the superficial cuts on Sherlock's neck. "And most importantly, lucky for me, that being as smart as you are, you realized how incredibly stupid you were."
Oh! That was low! "It wasn't stupid of me to want to keep you safe."
John sat down on the bed, raising the head-end as he did, so they were facing each other.
"Okay… ground rules. You are not keeping me. I'm staying because I want to; because you are a brilliant, insane man who makes my life a living hell on a daily basis, but it's never boring. My reasons may be suspect, but they are my reasons. I frankly have no idea why you want me to stay; but the day you decide you don't need a flat-mate, you come talk to me. I won't question you; I'll leave. But you don't get to decide what I want or need; what I should think or do. You cannot expect interventions from psychopaths' every time you screw this up. No more lies, Sherlock!"
Sherlock's face was solemn. "I will never do something like that again. But I cannot promise that I'll never lie to you…"
"At least, you're being honest. Well, I'm probably the first idiot who wants to be your friend; so can't complain. Its ok, Sherlock, baby steps…"
He was looking dazed, like John had taken a hammer to his head. "So much for calling me a 'madman' on your blog. Wanting to be my friend makes you equally crazy…"
"Good…So we're both mad." John was grinning widely now. "Can't have it any other way, can we?"
Ten minutes later, when John left to have a cup of tea; Sherlock was still smiling. His phone buzzed and his smile turned into a scowl, as he checked the display.
"What do you want?"
"Cheer up, Sherlock. This is a purely business call for something you wanted. It's a quaint one bedroom kitchen, just two blocks from his surgery. My assistant will email you the address."
Sherlock bristled, "I know that you have my hospital room bugged. So you already know that John isn't moving. So, by extension, the deal is off and this call is completely pointless."
"John decided to stay. That's good, isn't it?" The 'I told you so' was in the way he said it. "So can we go right into the details of the case I want your help with?"
"THE DEAL IS OFF."
"Unfortunately dear brother, the success or failure of your endeavor was never a part of our deal. I have kept my end of the bargain. It's not my concern, that you changed your mind."
"Piss off, Mycroft, go eat something other than my head." He cut the call.
Mycroft was chuckling, as he replaced the phone on his desk.
"Sir?" Heidi regarded him uncertainly.
He schooled his features to be inscrutable once more. "Yes… We can discontinue the audio surveillance of my brother's hospital room now. While you are at it, please see to the removal of a transmitter, hidden under Dr. Watson's jacket collar, before he finds it."
"Yes Sir." Her face was smooth once again.
He straightened in his chair as he sipped his non-fat latte.
"Sorry for that interruption, dear…back to business then. About the progress report from the M.O.D regarding the Bruce-Partington Program; you were saying…"
The End…
(Dear readers, thank you for sticking with me.
The title for this chapter {FOLIE à DEUX literally meaning 'madness shared by two'} was inspired by an episode of X-Files by the same title; in which Scully uses it to describe their relationship; to Mulder. I personally believe, that it is a staple requirement of any epic love-story!)
