10 - To Kill a Friend
sent 2011-12-20: I know now. – J.W.
Once he'd made the mistake of switching on his mobile, an unending string of texts beeped their way into his phone's inbox.
For some minutes, John stared at the small screen, unsure what to do. Then, he deleted most of them, either for lack of interest, hatred of the sender, or knowing they were hopelessly outdated. Some remained, though, for later inspection.
received 2011-06-28: I've been over, Mrs Hudson says ur at Harry's. Please call me. – Sarah
received 2011-07-20: John, can we talk, please? – G.L.
received 2011-08-17: John, Mrs H tells me you're coping. May I visit? – G.L.
received 2011-10-13: Are you even reading these? – G.L.
received 2011-10-18: Please call, or come by the clinic some time. Are you alright? - Sarah
received 2011-11-19: Tell me when you're ready to talk. – G.L.
received 2011-12-20: John? Please. – G.L.
Mycroft's steps were measured as always, but it had taken him less than twenty minutes after John's text to arrive at Baker Street, which screamed hurriedness nonetheless.
John allowed himself a small smug smile before it was replaced by a furious glare at the man entering the flat now.
"I know what he did."
Mycroft stood on the threshold, stilling momentarily at John's words.
"And you have known all along, haven't you." It was not really a question. Mycroft Holmes would not have needed six months to get it.
He searched the man's face, noticing how his eyes twitched oddly for a second before Mycroft settled for his usual unreadable politician's mien and sat rather abruptly on the sofa like he had forgotten all about his usually elegant moves.
"How could you not tell me, for God's sake! Didn't you think I had a right to know?"
"Actually, I-"
"Was it only me they threatened to kill, or was there anyone else on Moriarty's death list?"
For three full seconds, Mycroft seemed stunned like he understood only now that John had actually figured it out. Always underestimating him.
"It was you, John. He was concerned with keeping you safe."
"Keeping... God, he knew way before he was up on that roof!" John realised. "That call! He made me leave, s-."
And his words and thoughts ground to a halt when he suddenly heard Sherlock's words in the lab replaying in his head, loud and completely lifelike.
Alone is what protects me.
He understood now. Sherlock had not believed John's protest that friends were what offered protection. And he had been perfectly right, hadn't he?
Friends were not what protected him; they were what killed him.
John felt the world start spinning. He breathed against the lump and bile in his throat, while Mycroft seemed to regain his footing.
"Yes, it's quite obvious why I couldn't tell you that you were the leverage used on my brother, isn't it."
"Obvious?" John's voice came as a broken whisper but he could not bring himself to care. "All the time I've believed that he had... That he died thinking I believed Moriarty's lies. That our... friendship had not meant anything to him... That he had no idea that I... what he..." John found he couldn't continue, once more trapped by that word trying again to push into his mind.
"John, believe me, you're his one friend, the one he'll never give up on."
Nice to know that he was not the only one having difficulty to stick with the past tense when talking about Sherlock, John thought disjointedly.
The month was consumed by John clawing his way through the truth of having been instrumental to Sherlock's death, in about every way he could think of, because the more his bewilderment about Sherlock's 'suicide' receded, now that he had figured out the reasons behind it, the stronger John's comprehension of being personally, overwhelmingly responsible for it all had grown.
He had killed Sherlock.
Firstly: He had put the idea into Moriarty's head, allowing Moriarty to see Sherlock's weakness in the first place.
Secondly: He had prepared the stage, being the one to introduce the public to his genius friend, the very public that turned on their one-time hero like a pack of wolves – and yes, he rationally acknowledged that the rejection by the media had not played an immediate role in driving Sherlock up onto Bart's, but it still was a backdrop necessary for Moriarty's highly dramatic scheme to unfold as brilliantly as it had. Oh, he was willing to accept that the rejection of the public was unlikely to have impressed Sherlock much – a fact which had been one of the major reasons John had not been able to get his head around the 'suicide' in the first place. But John was still unsure how big a part the reaction of the likes of Donovan and Lestrade, their willingness to turn their backs, and Sherlock's apparent doubting John – which he still stubbornly refused to believe his best friend had seriously entertained, but which seemed all the more tragic and heart-breaking now that he knew what had been going on – had played in the last stand that Sherlock had decided to fight alone that day. After all, he could have chosen to seek help, or a way out, to entrust someone with the knowledge, the reasons... Not John, though.
He shut his memory down before it could replay that last call once again.
Thirdly: He had been the lever to make him jump.
Mycroft had been right: if he had known immediately, he might have done something incredibly stupid in that first wave of grief. He only wished he could be sure he wouldn't still.
.
After ten days of locking himself in the flat he caught himself idly speculating if he could have stopped Sherlock from taking that step if he had simply drawn his gun and shot himself down on that street. It would not have made that much difference to him from the state he was in now, but his best friend might have stayed alive...
John was well aware that he was headed a dangerous road; he had seen the great "What ifs" consume more than one comrade and knew how this ended. An indefinite stay in some asylum was the best outcome.
Still, John could not stop his spiralling thoughts, spiralling as in ever going round, never reaching any result, aware that he did not have enough data to ever find out, but unable to stop the dance in his head.
The crucial point was, John felt he did not deserve any such sacrifice.
And if he ever had, he did not now, after what he had allowed to happen. How had he not understood what was going on that day? How could he have been so incredibly blind? Let himself be sent away like the pet to which Moriarty enjoyed comparing him so much...
Yes, if John had looked closer, close enough, he could have deduced somehow that Sherlock was about to risk and give his life for the sake of being in the right about something.
It had never, ever crossed his mind though that Sherlock would do it for him.
Even if he accepted Mycroft's words as the truth and not something mainly said to comfort him, had Sherlock done it actually out of... friendship? That he had problems really seeing Sherlock kill himself for John only served to deepen John's self-hatred, because how could he doubt this if Sherlock was dead and he himself was still here? The uncertainty was eating him alive.
Or for the satisfaction of proving his will was stronger than Moriarty's?
But hadn't he lost by admitting he cared about people too much to let another die if he could prevent it? Or had he won since Moriarty had not had the opportunity to burn his heart out of him as was his declared aim?
The crux was John had never really understood the rules of the game, or of the final problem.
Anyway, no matter what Sherlock's reasoning and vindications might have been, John should have been aware that there was some addictive part of Sherlock from the time they met, seeing how he had almost taken the possibly lethal pill for no other reason than the knowledge of having been right or wrong. Now he had taken a lethal step to win a game. Only this time John had not saved him from himself, which was the only thing that gave him any right to call himself Sherlock's friend, really. He tried his best to keep him safe.
.
After one month of dissecting all the ways in which he had killed his best friend, John felt dead tired.
The only conclusion he had been able to reach eventually was that he had to come up with a plan, and fast, because Ella was right, he would not last long in this state. He hated her for her hurtful remarks, but after all she was not supposed to befriend him, but help him heal.
The plan was simple: He needed her to rid him of that damned psychosomatic limp first. He had to get through his therapy if he wanted to have any chance of passing the army's tests, as well. Once back in some war, there was no knowing what might or might not happen to him.
So, he was trying to behave like a good boy from now on and do as Ella told him. Accept that she knew best. You didn't even accept that I knew best! he heard the voice sneering. True, but beside the point.
John had extraordinary self-control if his life depended on it. And this had turned into a fight for self-preservation. He was not going to survive this new spiral of self-loathing, he would not make it through the next year in this state of mind, so it was a matter of survival really to either complete his therapy successfully – or pretend well enough to fool himself.
.
AN: Eventually got round to updating! Thanks, dear Bee! Soon it'll be finished and done with. Well, this story...
Original AN: YAY! I can't tell you how happy all those reviews have made me!
Azlira: Yes, actually John doesn't in most fics, I think. I hope it's convincing that here he does, since there were a lot of assassins about and he really must find some reason for Sherlock jumping other than his not being able to take the world's hatred (I mean, honestly, like he would care about that...)
the ticking clock: Thank you very much for giving your thoughts! And for liking my story :) Your hopes concerning Mycroft/John are answered right away, and I was grinning at your suggestion about bringing Sherlock in because that's what my probably obscure remark about a companion piece was about. I'll be doing a companion piece from his POV.
Noweia: OK, another one who waited for John to get it. No, he doesn't get an answer, but to whom did you think he texted?
Trakrat: Will do :)
the lovely CheyanneChika: Yeah, Ella seems to become rather unpopular... I wonder why... ;-p
eohippus: THANKS for the review, and yeah, everyone should join the revolution! Thanks for the compliment that you find things convincing, believe me I'm having quite a hard time to write parts of this (non-native speaker... it's terrible sometimes) and I'm not at all sure if it always comes out the way I intend it to. Concerning keeping up the complexity, I hope YOU will tell me ;)
I agree, by the way. Ella is a cow. I just wonder if there's a reason...
(my DVDs have actually arrived, btw, but I haven't had the time to rewatch yet.)