Chapter 12

The light of the streetlamps dimly lighted the hospital room. It was in the middle of the night, but Sherlock was still awake, not because of the pain. The pain was tolerable at the moment, it had decreased evenly over the last few days. It was still there, but there was hope as Dr. Hannigan has put it. The neurologist was somewhat sure that the allodynia would fade away once the residues of the pain enhancer were finally gone. But there was a high probability that there were some lasting damages and the allodynia might resurface again. Sherlock had listened to her explanation, noticed her insecurity, deduced her wish to comfort him, to give him hope. He saw Mycroft listening to her explanations and how he desperately tried to hide his despair and his concern. He didn't know what to do with all these information. He knew he would need time in his mind palace to process it all, but with visitors, nurses and doctors meddling with him all day and Becky needing his attention he only found the time to do that in the night. So now he thought about it all. He came to the conclusion that he would be able to live with all physical health issues that would remain. He had to, looking at the little girl that was soundly sleeping in the bed besides him, he knew that there was no other option. And that little girl also was key to the decision that formed in his mind. It was a big decision with far-reaching implications for him and the people around him, but making it felt so easy that he was instantly sure that it was the right choice. With that he felt asleep. He would talk about it with Mycroft next time he came by.

Sherlock had to wait a whole day for Mycroft to visit him, but he definitely had to be the first to talk about his decision. Mycroft came by only late in the evening when all the activities around Sherlock had finally faded away.

"You want to talk about something." Mycroft deduced right after entering the room.

Sherlock smiled at his brother deduction skills. "Yes"

Mycroft sat down on the chair close to his brothers bed. "Go on then."

"I need to die." Sherlock stated plainly.

"What?" Mycroft said shocked. "Didn't you listen to Dr. Hannigan yesterday. Things will become better. And what about Becky?" Mycroft took a worried look at the small girl sleeping in her bed.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, not that way." He smiled when he saw that Mycroft realized what he meant.

"Oh, you mean the great Sherlock Holmes needs to die." Mycroft said and visibly relaxed. "And then?"

"Then? I will retire. Somewhere to the countryside, keeping bees. I need a place for Becky to grow up in peace." Sherlock explained. "And just to answer the question that is on your mind. Yes, I thought about giving her away, finding her a family that will care for her, a family with a mother and a father. I thought about that. I never wanted a family. I never wanted to be a father. But I am. When John told me that you had found her, that she was alive and when you came in with her. I was so sure that I had not only lost Molly but her as well, but then when I saw her, I knew I was a father and I was so happy. And when I wasn't able to hold her close and comfort her because of the pain that hurt so much, because all I wanted was to hold her and soothe her, giving her the feeling that everything will be okay. So yes, I thought about giving her away, but no, I cannot. I know it might be selfish, but want to see her growing up. I want to be her father, not from a distant, but by her side."

Mycroft had listened to his brother's explanation quietly. Now he nodded, seeing the sincerity in his brother's expression.

"So we need to let you die, find you a new identity and a home." He stated businesslike.

"Yes, please." Sherlock smiled.

"Any preferences?" Mycroft asked.

"Well, explaining my death will be easy. And I am a widower, so that would be a natural cover." Sherlock started. "And I like Sussex Downs. I need a house with a garden, because of the bees." He smiled. "And of course there should be a good preparatory school close by."

Mycroft just nodded. There was a moment of silence.

"And who do you want it to know?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock nodded. He had thought about that, too. He couldn't do it like the last time when he faked his suicide.

"John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade need to know. I don't want to hurt them once more and I know they will understand and keep my secret safe. I will tell them tomorrow."

Mycroft nodded, reaching out his hand to hold his brother's hand, but stopping at the last moment, remembering that it would still cause him pain. So he rested his hand just beside it. Sherlock watched the movement and carefully placed his own hand on his brother's hand. They stayed that way, not speaking, just enjoying the comfortable silence.

Sherlock was standing in front of the window, the silky white sheet carefully wrapped around his body. He was just looking out of the window. He could see some famous London buildings from his room and the view gave him a nice and comfortable feeling of being close to home. But they also gave him a notion about what he was going to loose today.

"Sherlock?" John's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "What are you doing there? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I was enjoying the view. And no, I am allowed to get up." Sherlock answered without turning around. "Besides, pain coming only from the soles of my feet is a nice change." He heard John sigh behind him, but he could sense that the last words probably shocked Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson who were also in the room. "I am fine, just let me stand here for a while. Please sit down. I need to talk to you."

He heard them rustle in the background.

"No, not that chair, John. I'm gonna sit down there in a moment." Sherlock said, again without moving around.

John had to smile at his friend's ability to sense his movements. It was just a tiny glimpse of the old Sherlock and he just missed him terrible. Also Sherlock just wearing a sheet reminded him of a happy past.

"You look like back then when you went to Buckingham Palace just dressed in a sheet:" John chuckled.

Sherlock chuckled as well. "I wish I could bring back those times." He sighed, still standing like a statue. "But that is the past." He said firmly. "I wanted to talk with you about the future." He waited a moment, sensing the anticipation. "I will die." Hearing his friend outcry he turned around. "No, not that way, but Sherlock Holmes has to die." He watched his friends as they realized what he meant.

"You want to disappear?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded. "I need to. I want to make sure that Becky will grow up safe. She already lost her mum. I will avoid everything that will pose a risk to her." He carefully walked up to the soft wingchair in the corner, dragging the IV pole behind him. As he seated himself he was unable to avoid a wince as his movement caused him quite some pain.

"Still in pain?" John asked worried. "Have they reduced you pain medication?"

"Yes and no" Sherlock answered, taking some deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. Seeing the puzzled expressions of his friends he groaned. "Yes, still in pain, and no, they haven't reduced my pain medication. It is better than it was, but the allodynia is still there. But it is getting better every day. I had longer episodes in the past, so I can live with this." He added. "Back to the topic, please."

"So you need to die in order to disappear. I guess Mycroft will arrange everything. So what does it mean? What will you do?" Lestrade inquired.

Sherlock nodded. "Well, Mycroft will arrange everything. I will move away from London and." He paused for a moment, knowing the impact the following words would likely have. "This will be the last time we will see each other." He waited for the reaction.

"What?" John cried out. Mrs. Hudson was shaking her head, Lestrade looked shocked.

"I will need to avoid anything and anyone connected to my past." Sherlock stated quietly. "The risk is too high. There are too many people who would like to see me dead." He snorted." Do you know how many appointments they had made? How much longer they intended to keep me alive?" He looked at John and then at Lestrade, who both shook their heads. "Months." Sherlock said with a shaky voice. "I survived, because they were quite careful not to cause to much damage. I survived because they had a long list of people who wanted to have fun torturing me." He saw how Mrs. Hudson flinched and so he stopped. "After everything that has happened I want my girl to have a nice and carefree childhood. And I don't want to worry all the time. Besides, even if things become better I will surely not regain the physical condition I had before." He looked at them, waiting for them to process the news.

It was Mrs. Hudson who started to talk. "So what would you like to do today?" She tried to put on a cheery voice.

Sherlock smiled. He knew he would miss her and her optimistic spirit terrible. "Just let us sit here and talk about all the great things we experienced together."