A/N: first off i'd just like to say sorry to all of you who have reviewed saying that It was bad for Sherlock to do what he has just done.
It was an integral part of the story guys!
this Chapter is mostly John, enjoy!
Thank you's and Shout outs go to the following:
OperaGoose: it was totally unpardonable of me to forget you in the mentions in the last chapter, I wasn't with it, but I am now so will all the readers please be upstanding for the right honourable Operagoose!
VerityBurns:my dear you keep coming back for more even thought the site does not seem to want to tell you have new Chapters up, thank you for your battles with the site it makes me feel fuzzy inside! :D the cat is much better after the trip to the vets and the bill of 92 euro made her owner feel a little faint!
LittlePippin76 Well I'm glad you do as this was not where I wanted the story to go… Oh well
XMillieX Indeed we do, but unluckily (for us!) Sherlock has the only Genuine John on the planet so the rest of us may just have to enter into some sort of a barter system with him.
ds9julian I'm glad you're enjoying the twists, because they are keeping me guessing too! Its terrible when a writer knows less than the characters do!
Arrienete I love your name btw! also Welcome! It has indeed gotten dark incredibly quickly, as to where its going I have no clue! ask the boys though they seem to know more than I do about this, I'm glad you are still with this motley crew! we do appreciate it!
Right I think thats all the shootouts covered, if I have missed you out please PM me and let me know, thats what Operagoose did and she got a shout out this chapter!
So if you have taken up position, sitting on your favourite chair, bed, rug, table, work desk, out a window or even on your head (and if you are on your head do be careful and try not to mix it with hanging out the window at the same time, recipe for disaster in my opinion!) Then we can begin!
Here is chapter eleven!
*Bows and leaves the stage*
Chapter Eleven: Of Packing.
In later years, when he would come to try and remember his return to Baker Street, he would say he got in a taxi, and that he could remember little else. He had walked sightlessly out of the hospital and held his hand out automatically. Opened the door of the cab and got in all without really seeing.
Once he was inside the cabs warm interior he came back to himself a little, and watched as the hospital disappeared into the distance.
"b…Baker Street please." His voice stumbled over the words, as if loath to say them, "221b Baker Street" he said a little more audibly.
The cabbie said nothing just drove, and John was glad of the silence, in the silence he could think.
He needed to get home and pack, he needed to get away for a while, somewhere that Sherlock couldn't affect him.
Where would that be though?
He still had Harry's small flat somewhere up north that he could go to.
Sherlock's words shouldn't' have hurt him, they shouldn't have even made him angry, but then again Sherlock shaped thoughts shouldn't be running around his mind all the time.
Thoughts about pushing the lanky detective up against the hallway wall and kissing him so that he was as dazed as John often felt when around him would keep the doctor tossing and turning in his bed at night.
Daytimes John would constantly worry about Sherlock's eating habits, something that he was sure he had never been so obsessed with before.
So it was understandable that the good doctor was a little upset.
"Enough" he sad in a whisper.
"You want out here mate?"
"No, thank you." John replied tersely.
The cabbie nodded "orite you just tell me if you change your mind."
John nodded back knowing full well the cabbie could see him.
He would go up north for a while, he wasn't due a holiday, Sarah would probably fire him if he just left, but explaining would be so much worse.
How could he tell Sarah why he needed to go away when he himself wasn't sure how to phrase it in his own head.
He clenched his fists and slammed them down hard on the seat, how could he leave and go and live normally after this?
He wished his sister was still around, she would have understood, she would have talked to him until he was calmer, she would have stamped on all his fears and told him to keep his chin up, she would have been the big sister of old that would scare away the nightmares.
Things must be bad if he was beginning to romanticise his alcoholic dead sister!
He unclenched his fists and smoothed his hands over his eyes, if he didn't go up north what could he do?
His limp was gone, he could always go back in the army.
No, Mycroft would probably make sure his application never got through the preliminary checks.
North it was then, and if Mycroft wanted to tell Sherlock where he was then so be it, he didn't care.
Arriving outside the place he had called home was the most terrible experience in John's life, he half expected to see Sherlock staring out of the window deep in thought, he longed to see that half smile light up the consulting detective's face, the small half smile he only used when John arrived home after a day at work.
He fitted the key in the lock and walked up to the flat on shaky legs.
The sight of the living room floor made his stomach turn.
there were droplets of blood evenly spaced, as if the person had ben walking in a circle, but by the window was a bigger expose of blood as if the person, as if Sherlock, had slumped down and passed out, which in all likelihood was what he had done.
"Stupid Man!" John muttered to himself, why hadn't Sherlock text him and told him what was going on?
John grinned and wondered if he himself was going mad. He tried to look for his phone, before realising he'd left it at the surgery, he hunted for Sherlock's phone , finding it on the ashes of the previous nights fire, ad scrolled through the texts.
New head for you Sherlock?
Mollyx
New case, will you help? GL
We need your help GL
Honestly, you could try and make his life a little easier MH
Doctor Watson,
Went to the hospital
In a shower of pain
he stepped on a… Well its up to you my dearest, but
never was he seen again.
M x
So Moriarty was planning to kill him, well hadn't that always been an issue?
Sherlock had told him that he meant nothing, that it was all so as he stayed, surely Moriarty wasn't a problem to him any more, he was no longer Sherlock's heart.
He dropped the phone as if it had burnt him and ran up the stairs to his room.
His suitcase was under his bed and he hauled it out, pulling things from the wardrobe and shoving them in to the case haphazardly, he didn't think he had long, if he left within the next twenty minutes then Moriarty may still be occupied with gloating over Sherlock's utter defeat to worry about John.
Sherlock's mobile downstairs beeped, an incoming text.
"Shit" John hissed he began to pack furiously, he now had fifteen minutes at the best. if he could get away and somehow let Sherlock know he was alright, or even let Mycroft know, the brothers for all their moaning about each other, they did care about each other.
Case packed with the essentials he headed downstairs, he caught sight of his laptop and an idea hit him.
When he had been in school his science teacher had taught them how to write hidden messages with lemon juice, they didn't' have any lemon but John did have a laptop and sherlock's email address, it would be easy, write something in black and then change the font colour to white for what he really wanted to say, it would be a way of letting Sherlock know where he was going, what he was doing.
he began to type.
Sherlock,
By the time you get this I will be gone, don't try and look for me you've got your wish, I am gone. You once told me everything was black and white, I disagreed, now I agree, everything is indeed in black…. Or white.
I will make sure to settle the rent with Mrs Hudson.
John Watson.
He left what appeared to be a few blank lines after he had written his name, he knew what those two blank lines meant, sighing he sent the message, he had spent far to long here already.
Picking up his case he took a moment to look at the flat, imprinting the image in his mind, searing it there, just in case.
he walked down the seventeen steps and out into the drab London afternoon.
He headed for the underground station, he would get the tube to Waterloo and then the Victoria line to Kings Cross, taking the first train to Edinburgh. He could stay with some old friends for a while as staying at Harry's flat was now out of the question.
he took a quick look at Baker Street before he got pulled along with the throng of holidaymakers and Londoners all eager to get the next tube away, he bid his life a fond farewell hoping as he got onto the tube that it would not be exile for good.
A/N: there you are, a little short, but I have the flu, again! (Seriously It decided to make an appearance yesterday evening) but you will be getting chapter 12 as soon as it has been written, fr all of you who like a good tweet follow me on twitter, check my profile for details!