Sherlock called up Jim the next day as soon as he woke up.
He was amazed, frustrated and above all worried when he didn't wake up to the usual practice of Jim staring from the screen in front.
"Where are you?"
"Good morning my love." Jim's voice was abnormally calm. "I'm somewhere in the Middle East. " He chimed.
And that was all.
Sherlock couldn't ask Jim why he didn't call. Why, for the first time in forever he had missed waking up to Sherlock.
It was evident that he was alive, in good enough condition to pick up his phone. He had chosen not to call Sherlock.
Why?
"I have to go Sherlock." Jim said nonchalantly.
Sherlock realized that they hadn't really been talking. "Okay." He said disconnecting the call.
There was worry, there was ego also.
Sherlock's mind felt empty. He tried to busy himself with his daily routine. He told himself that Jim was extremely busy forming a new team and didn't have time for chitchat. That just because somethings used to happen does not mean they will continue to happen.
Change is good. He told himself. At least he doesn't feel like a cradled baby anymore.
But his thoughts kept eating him from inside. Thoughts of danger. Thoughts of lies. Thoughts of a life without Jim.
Sherlock's mind kept going back to the incidents following Jim's departure. Trying to analyse, find out clues as if trying to find a cure for an unknown disease.
The most prominent memories were that of the secret service agents' trying to infiltrate Jim's army.
Once a man was almost hired to do Jim's odd jobs like killing off the pawns. Then tests showed that his story of living abroad does not fit with the mineral particles found in his teeth.
Jim was going to lengths to authenticate each hire's stories.
As a task to test his abilities, that man was asked to kill some fellow agents who were identified and preserved earlier.
He couldn't.
Instead he hatched a plan to save them. All under Jim's watchful eye.
Jim had laughed hysterically, to the point of tears while they tried to execute their plan.
The Yard had found a human totem pole of a total of five bodies. All with their eyes and ears cut out.
It was a message from Jim. 'Your eyes and ears are gone.'
Sherlock did his work like a well-oiled machine. Hardly noticing anything. Inside he was plundering himself. He was not there for his man when he needed him most. He hated himself for cheating Jim and running out to get a glimpse of John Watson.
A dangerous thought flickered in his mind. What if John was also a part of a greater scheme of the government agency? What if he was deliberately put in his path?
No, that cannot be. How could someone predict the feelings that Sherlock developed after meeting the man? No this was totally coincidental.
No, he was just losing his mind worrying about Jim's safety. He hated himself for the non-cooperation he had shown in these difficult times.
There was no Seb, Sherlock was away and Jim was out there somewhere facing his life threatening troubles all by himself. It was as if he had taken all his problems with himself and left. Left Sherlock altogether.
Sherlock swallowed harshly and looked up at the hidden cam in his office. It was fitted above the door. One among many. He knew he was still under surveillance, but unlike earlier times, this time Jim was not obliging him with his side of information.
It was raining outside. The drops hitting hard on the windows asking for entry but falling away before they had a chance. London was gloomy, sad, lonely, same as the house was without Jim. Really, it felt like a haunted house. Haunted by loneliness, disquiet, foreboding. It had been three weeks since Jim's departure and Sherlock was growing more agitated with each passing day. Things were strangely quiet from Jim's side. That had never been the case. Never.
No calls, no video calls, just a few messages stating his whereabouts. The only source of information about Jim. Sherlock fretted, he knew something had gone wrong between them, but he couldn't fathom what was to become of it.
He tried contacting him a couple of times. "I'm okay Sherlock." Was the only reply he got. That was the response that he needed, true but he needed more. For the first time in their long standing, never varying relationship, it was Sherlock who was looking for reassurances. He tried contacting up other people in Jim's team. another futile attempt. They were not allowed to disclose anything. He wanted to know when Jim would be back, whether he would be back.
Of course he would be back.
Sherlock told himself. Where else would he go? That madman could never survive without Sherlock. Even in his absences and silences, Sherlock knew that he was under Jim's watch.
Why silences? This has never been the norm of solving things between them. But then when has ever things been solved between them. But exactly what had gone wrong between them? Did Sherlock unintentionally give any hint about John?
This was not a lovers tiff. This was Jim keeping Sherlock at arms -length for far too long.
Sherlock had to do something or else he would go mad.
To test Jim's patience and his surveillance, Sherlock started roaming the city, going to prohibited places and at odd times. He spoke to strangers, went to below standard night clubs and walked about in all shady neighborhood.
At last, he purchased drugs.
No response.
Barging in on John and kissing him senseless was another option. But he didn't want to make a pawn out John and get him killed. He had to restrain himself.
After days of such futile efforts to get Jim's attention, Sherlock stopped going out altogether.
Sherlock sat cradling the syringe in his palms. It was a good dose. A dose that he wasn't sure he could handle. But then, that was exactly the point.
He injected himself.