Never Too Late Chapter 11 Chalk Outline

At the moment the video Sherlock ran off-stage, real Sherlock burst through the doors of Lestrade's office.

"Lestrade, Anderson is-," he began, and then his eyes widened at the screen. "What is that?" he asked quietly.

Lestrade sighed, then said, "Sherlock you left some stuff at my house and I was curious as to what it was and then I showed John but I didn't mean to watch it all and I'm sorry I know I shouldn't've done that and—"

"Lestrade you're rambling. And I haven't been to your house since…" Sherlock trailed off.

"Yeah I know," Lestrade replied.

There was an awkward silence before Sherlock asked, "So what is it? Obviously it's mine and you snooped so I have a right to know."

Lestrade took a breath. "Okay, yeah. Well, um it's a video of a band performing and I, we watched because the guitarist looked like… he looked like you and his name in the video was SH and… I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock was too busy glaring at the floor to notice John walking towards him. When he laid a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, it made Sherlock jump. "Sherlock, let's go home, okay?" John asked. Sherlock just nodded absently.

John cursed silently; it was never good when Sherlock lost focus. Damn, he was probably thinking about it, and having emotions. Anyone who knows Sherlock would know that he and emotions were not the best of pals.

The two of them walked out of Scotland Yard and hailed a cab. John sent off a text to Lestrade and Mycroft as he got in the cab.

Warning, it may be a danger night. JW

Mycroft's reply was instant.

Do watch him, won't you? MH

John didn't respond to that; of course he was going to watch him. Lestrade didn't reply but John was pretty sure he knew anyway.

Soon they arrived at Baker St. and Sherlock went straight in the direction of his room.

"No, Sherlock I need to talk to you," John said.

Sherlock stopped in front of his door, with his hand on the handle. When it was clear he wasn't going to respond, John kept talking.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry I invaded your privacy like that. Will you please talk to me? It seems like you have a lot of things in your past that I've never known about."

Sherlock's grip tightened, but he said nothing.

John walked to Sherlock and set his own smaller hand on Sherlock's. He took Sherlock's hand in his own and walked to the sitting room, Sherlock following. They sat on the couch, still holding hands.

"Sherlock, please talk to me."

Sherlock's eyebrows drew together. "It doesn't even matter now."

Silence.

"Just out of curiosity, did you write any songs after you quit?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes but… they're not for anything. Just, memories on paper so I can make room in my mind palace."

"Do you think, maybe in the future, you'd trust me enough to see them?" John asked pensively.

Sherlock's head snapped up and his hand tightened around John's. "John I trust you with everything; my life, my work, I… I died for you, John. I don't trust anyone the way I trust you."

John's eyes watered a bit; they hadn't really talked about his return. John had punched him first, but then hugged him and Sherlock had hugged back; he had missed John so much.

"I can show you the songs now if you like," Sherlock said quietly.

"Are you sure?"

Sherlock looked at him.

"Right, sorry. Sure."

They walked into Sherlock's room, where Sherlock opened a small box with several papers in it. The top one was labeled 'Chalk Outline'.

"Do you mind if I…?"

"Of course," Sherlock responded.

When John took the paper, he tried to get a tune for the lyrics, but gave up and just read the words. But Sherlock could see his struggle and asked, "If… if you wanted I could sing it for you, to help with your understanding of it."

John was about to refuse, but he did want to hear Sherlock sing. Apparently Sherlock knew that because he took the page and sang in a deep voice that contrasted to the higher one in the video.

"I've been cursed
I've been crossed
I've been beaten by the ones that get me off

"I've been cut
I've been opened up
I've been shattered by the ones I thought I loved

"You left me here like a chalk outline
On the sidewalk waiting for the rain to wash away
Wash away
You keep coming back to the scene of the crime
But the dead can't speak and there's nothing left to say anyway

"All you left behind
Is a chalk outline

"I've been cold
In the crypt
But not as cold as the words across your lips

"You'll be sorry baby
Someday
When you reach across the bed where my body used to lay

"You left me here like a chalk outline
On the sidewalk waiting for the rain to wash away
Wash away
You keep coming back to the scene of the crime
But the dead can't speak and there's nothing left to say anyway

"All you left behind
Is a chalk outline
All you left behind
Is a chalk outline
All you left behind
Is a chalk outline

"You left me here like a chalk outline
On the sidewalk waiting for the rain to wash away
Wash away
You keep coming back to the scene of the crime
But the dead can't speak and there's nothing left to say anyway

"All you left behind
Is a chalk outline"

Sherlock's voice was beautiful; John was awed. "Wow Sherlock that was, just great, really. I just, who was this song directed to? It seems like a, you know an ex or something. Is it?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. He was… he hit me. Often. He said he loved me then beat me up when the other students were around. I was so desperate for someone I stayed with him."

"Other students?"

"Yes. We were in uni together. You've met him, actually. Sebastian. Wilkes. The banker."

John shook his head. "Knew that guy was a bastard." They laughed a little at that. "Wait, he hit you?"

"Yes. That wasn't too bad; he was terribly un-coordinated. It was the things he said to me, even when we were, um, well… busy." Sherlock blushed. "And he never used… anything. No safety or lubrication." Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. "It never hurt during; I was usually high. Later it was bad, especially since he wouldn't wait between go's. My… my stitches never stayed in."

John could feel his blood boiling, rushing through him. His anger making him see red. "Sherlock… how could you let yourself be so close to him after that?"

Sherlock yawned.

"Look, never mind," John said. "You can tell me later. Or not, you know, just, whichever. But for now, you need to sleep, doctor's orders."

In response, Sherlock yawned again and laid down where he was on his bed, which, in turn, trapped John.

"Um, Sherlock?"

"Shh."

John, worried, stayed with his friend. He really hoped it wasn't a danger night.

"John."

"Hm?"

"Stop thinking."