He didn't come back that night or the next morning. Afternoon came, then passed into evening and still Sherlock had not returned.
I sat in my armchair waiting for his return. Not moving a muscle, watching as the hands of the clock traced circles round the face. I didn't eat or sleep, I just kept staring at the door waiting for Sherlock.
It was nightfall when I decided he was certainly not coming back, for a brief moment I feared Moriarty may have taken him, but for some reason my mind was screaming at me to go back to that house in Mayfair. Mycroft had Sherlock, I was certain.
I was expecting another assistant of Mycroft's to answer his door, but it was the man himself. He didn't look surprised to see my face, in fact he looked like he would ask what had taken me so long.
'Sherlock, I need to see him,' I pleaded.
Mycroft looked me up and down, taking in my crumpled clothes, hair standing up on loose ends, all signs that I had not gone to bed. 'I don't think that is a good idea.'
'Please,' I begged. 'I need to see him, I'm not going, I'll stay on this doorstep all night if I have to.'
'Please don't, think of the neighbours.' He glanced at the other properties on the street. And then suddenly he just stepped aside. 'Up the stairs, second door on the left.'
I ran, not caring how much noise I made or if I got dirt on the carpet. I burst through the door of a large guest bedroom, heart in my mouth.
There he was. He lay on his side on the bed facing me, arms wrapped round his legs holding them in place on his chest. He was wearing a ratty looking t shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms. His head lifted slightly and eyes glimmered with recognition but his body stayed perfectly still. 'How did you find me?'
'Does it matter?'
'Mycroft told me everything. You know I didn't believe him, not at first, I would have carried on in blissful ignorance if he hadn't had the place bugged.' Like Mycroft, there was no emotion in his voice, or in his face. He looked tired, as if he'd given up. When he spoke it was as if he were speaking about somebody else.
'Yes I know.' I wanted to explain everything, tell him about Harry, how this whole mess started but I just couldn't find the words.
'Is it true? Is what Mycroft says true?'
I nodded. 'You know it is.'
'I need to hear it from you.'
'Yes, it's true, Moriarty heard you needed a new flatmate, said he needed someone to spy on you and that's where I came in.'
Sherlock nodded and climbed up off the bed then stood directly in front of me, he looked like he had aged decades in a few hours. He hadn't slept and his face was covered in morning stubble where he had not shaved. Large bags had formed under his eyes and the eyes themselves looked red and sore. He had been crying. Whatever boyish charm and good looks he had once possessed had completely disappeared. There was no spark in his eyes, no glint, he looked dead.
'Funny isn't it? The man who sees everything couldn't see the truth about his own flatmate.' He sounded hollow, his voice even and cold. I hated it, I wanted him to shout at me, scream, anything.
'It's not like that.' I pleaded. 'This was not supposed to happen, believe me I had no intention of falling in love with you.' I felt the tears begin to form in my eyes, they pricked and clouded my vision slightly.
'You could have stopped,' he interrupted 'You could have realised that I felt the same way and stopped, told me the truth and walked away, but no, you had to stay.' His voice finally hitched upwards and I could see anger begin to flood his system. I could almost see the blood boiling in his veins and his eyes began to sparkle with life. I was almost relieved that I was dealing with the Sherlock I knew.
'Why did you carry on lying to me?' he demanded. 'Did you and Moriarty have a good laugh about it? I bet you did, I bet he gave you a big pat on the back, did he congratulate you? Not only did you deceive me, you had me on my back begging to be fucked.' The coarse language made me flinch.
'NO!' I yelled back.
'Then what did you tell Moriarty? Did you tell him everything? My cases? How my mind works? How I like my coffee? The colour of my socks? Or was it more personal? Did you tell him how I taste? Did you tell him how to make me moan? How I sound when I scream your name? What it feels like to be buried deep inside of me? Did you have a bet on to see how long it would take before I sucked your cock?'
'No,' I pleaded, tears stinging my eyes. 'You mean the world to me, I wanted to tell you the truth but I couldn't.'
'Then why did you stay? If I meant that much to you why did you stay?'
'Because I couldn't let you go, because I wanted you, because I love you.' I pleaded my voice thick through the tears that were now falling down my cheeks.
'You don't know what love is, Dr. Watson.' He spat out my name. 'I gave you my virginity and all you did was lie to me. Now get out.' he pointed to the door.
'No,' I said defiantly, shaking my head through the sobs. I was determined to stay, I was determined to stay and make him see, I couldn't lose him, I wouldn't lose him. Wiping the tears from my eyes I stood rooted to the spot.
'I said get out,' he snapped.
'No,' I growled, stepping into his personal space so our noses were almost touching and I could feel his hot breath on my face 'I won't go, not until you believe me, until you know that I love you and I crave you, that I would rather die a thousand times over then spend more than a second away from you.' I wrapped my hands around his waist and crushed our bodies together.
He didn't flinch, not for a moment. We stood, staring at each other in silence, without speaking. The pause seemed to last an eternity. I saw his resolve melt into the air as he looked at me.
'Please go.' The anger in his eyes had subsided, replaced by hurt and loss. 'Please,' he said, his words barely above a whisper.
I shook my head and cupped his cheek. 'This isn't over, it's not over yet.'
He almost fell in my arms, holding me close, burying his head into my neck. Then curling his hand into a fist he struck me against the shoulder, then again. I relished the pain, I deserved it.
'I loved you, I fucking loved you,' he choked out, he sounded like a lost child unable to understand the cruelty of the adult world. I hugged him closely to my chest, his entire bodyweight leaning on me as I swayed him slightly. I whispered that I loved him that I was sorry over and over again till the words lost all meaning.
Mycroft appeared behind me. 'I think you have done enough damage John,' he said, as cold as ice. The softness of his voice juxtaposed the heat and fury of Sherlock. 'Come now John, it's over.' He placed a hand on my shoulder and led me out the front door.
It had started to rain heavily as I made the walk back, the heavy water droplets fell on me, soaking me to the skin. I didn't care. I noticed a man walking next to me, he was so close I assumed he was about to mug me, I was about to just give him my wallet and save him the trouble when I felt something sting the side of my neck, and my entire world went black.
