Chapter 11
The next afternoon came faster than Sherlock expected as he has slept nearly all morning. He was surprised that he hadn't spend much time thinking about what he would say to John. Just after lunch time two nurses came in. He had totally forgotten that they would have come to change the dressing on his much too slow healing wounds. He sighted and let them do their work. They always started by cleaning the wounds which was usually accompanied by a burning pain that would last for quite some time. He usually couldn't lay on his back for an hour or two after they were finished and every movement caused more pain. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to asked John to come by in the afternoon. He didn't mind Molly seeing him in that state of pain but he wasn't quite sure if he wanted John to see it. But it was too late to change the appointment anything. So he just hissed as the nurses started to clean the wounds on his back when he heard a knock at the door.
"That is somebody who wants to visit me. Could you please tell him to wait until you are finished." He asked the nurses under his breath. He heard one of the nurses moving to the door and heard her talking quietly outside.
When the nurses had finished their work they helped him adjust to a less painful position, lying on his left side, facing the window. He didn't have to wait long. He heard another knock and John entered the room. From the way he walked Sherlock concluded that he was insecure. Sherlock didn't move, trying to breath evenly and force the pain from his mind.
"Sherlock?" John asked hesitantly.
"I am awake." Sherlock replied flatly.
John moved around the bed and sat down on the chair beside the bed.
"Are you okay?" John asked, cursing himself for that stupid question.
Sherlock didn't answer, just gazed at him intently.
"Of course you are not okay. Sorry, stupid question." John went on. "I am really sorry. I don't know what to say."
There was a moment of silence, but Sherlock was reluctant to break it.
"If I had known." John resumed.
"If you had known what?" Sherlock asked.
"If I had known that you have been hurt."
"Then you would not have attacked me? Thrice?" Sherlock try to hide his anger.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." John couldn't stand Sherlock's gaze any longer and just looked at the floor.
"You broke my nose and left me standing bleeding on the pavement." Sherlock stated plainly.
"I was just so angry. I lost control. If I would have known what had happened to you in those two years and that you were still injured when you came to meet me I would surely not have done anything like that."
"You would have welcomed me back if you would have known?" Sherlock inquired.
"Sure, I" But Sherlock didn't let John finished.
"But I started to explain to you that I needed to dismantle Moriarty's web and you didn't even let me finish my explanation."
"I am sorry, but I" Again Sherlock interrupted John
"You couldn't imagine that dismantling a criminal network was dangerous." His voice was mockingly.
"No, it is just, you were so vibrant, so enthusiastic as you started to explain, it just put me off." John tried to defend himself.
"It put you off? I was vibrant, because I was back, back in London, back with my best friend, that was at least what I thought you were." Sherlock spat out.
"I was, I am, I" John stuttered.
"Let me get back to the point we started with. I should have told you first that I was injured and then you would have welcomed me back. Why?"
"Why?"
"Yes, why? What difference does it make for you if I had been injured in those two years or not?" Sherlock inquired.
"It makes a difference. It shows your sacrifice." John answered.
"My sacrifice? So if I would have been able to dismantle Moriarty's web without receiving a single scratch then those two years would not have been a sacrifice? Then it would have been fun? But because I got injured you judge my actions differently? Did I get that right?" Sherlock was angry, but tried to stay calm.
John didn't answer but looked up. Several times he opened his mouth, just about to say something, but he seemed unable to form words.
"You see, John, that is the crucial point. I had no intention to tell you what happened to me in those two years, not on that evening anyway. I wanted to explain you everything, how I did it, why I had to do it, about the snipers, about Moriarty's deputies, why it took so long to get rid of anybody who was a threat to you, to Lestrade and to Mrs. Hudson. But I didn't intend to tell you about my injuries, about what happened to me in Serbia, not then, maybe in a few weeks, maybe never." Sherlock paused for a moment, watching John before he resumed. "You want to know why? Because it isn't important, not for me anyway. It was necessary to take risks and it was unfortunate that on some occasions I was injured and that on one occasion I was even captured and tortured. But that isn't the point. It doesn't change anything. I still faked my suicide. I wanted to keep you save and I still think what I did was the only feasible option. And didn't anticipated that it would hurt you so much, I am sorry for that. But I wanted to keep you safe. And I am not sorry for that." He paused again. "But for you the fact that I was hurt changes everything. If I would not have been hurt, if you would not have known about what happened in Serbia, if Mycroft would not have forced you to watch me nearly die in this hospital bed, then you would still be angry with me, you would condemn my actions, you would still think I did it for fun, you would not forgive me."
"No." John interrupted.
"No? Honestly?" Sherlock asked, gazing at John, who didn't know what to answered and who got up and started to pace up and down the room.
"Honestly." He finally said. "Yes, I would judge your actions differently. I suffered. I broke apart when you forced me to watch you jump down that damn roof."
"I didn't force you to watch. The call that Mrs. Hudson was injured. I wanted you away from St. Barth's. I didn't want you watch it."
John had stopped pacing and stared at Sherlock who continued.
"And I was telling you that it was a trick, a magic trick. I knew that they bugged my phone and that I couldn't tell you the truth, but I hoped that you would take the hint and realize what was going on. But it doesn't matter, or does it? You are not willing to forgive me for what I have done. You don't believe me that my way was the only option I had. But because you now know that I have been hurt, that I have been tortured, that I nearly died you think we are even. My pain equals your pain. But that is not enough, not for me anyway." Sherlock said angrily.
John wanted to say something but again he didn't know what to say.
"I guess it is better if you would leave now." Sherlock said, closing his eyes.
John moved forward, closer to the bed.
"Sherlock." he stated weakly.
"I am tired, John. Please." Sherlock didn't open his eyes. If it wasn't for the throbbing pain of his back wounds he would have turned around.
"Sherlock? Can I visit you again?" John asked sadly.
"I don't know. I will let you know."
John left without another word.
Sherlock sighted. He cannot say that he didn't expected this kind of conversation, but it left him hollow and numb. He truly lost his best friend, that was the only thought that was left in his mind. But it was different now. When he came to the same realization after that dreadful evening when he met John at Lestrade's flat, he wasn't shattered by this insight anymore. He just observed it like some evidence at a crime scene, storing it in his mind palace in order to put every little piece of the puzzle together late on. He was surprised by this approach, but there was also a hint of relieve. Just then he heard a knock at the door and Molly entered his room. He noticed her light and swinging steps as she came closer.
"Sherlock? Are you okay?" Molly asked cautiously.
"Yes, Molly. I am okay." Sherlock said with a small smile on his lips. "Sit down."
"Did you talk to John? I saw him on my way up, but he didn't look at me. He seemed lost in thought." She stated slightly confused.
"Yes, we talked, but I would rather not talk about that now. But believe me, I am fine. Just my back still hurts, because they cleaned the wounds again this afternoon. I hate that." Sherlock smiled at her.
"I can imagine that." Molly said. She knew it would be better not to press Sherlock to talk about John. Besides she noticed full well that his smile was genuine and that in comparison to John he looked rather content. So she rather took his hand in her hand as she had done so every day since he was admitted into hospital and then she started to talk about her day and about her work. He listened attentively and every now and again he hummed softly while slowly caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. After a while they just stayed silent, watching each other and keep their hands close together. He never yearned to touch her in the past, but over the last two years she had taken care of him so often, seeing him in some of his worst states. She was his life anchor whenever he felt lost. And during the last weeks her hand in his hand was a soothing constant in his existence, one he didn't want to miss. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with this new found yearning once he would leave the hospital, but he was quite sure his mind would come up with a solution. So right now he just allowed himself to enjoy this closeness.
