Hello everyone, I know I say this a lot but again thanks for all the support. I'm trying to update at least once a week, this isn't a promise, but I will try. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chap :) Remember to let me know what you think!
Hands On Education
Chapter 25
It's A Long Way Down
'Carbonara looks good, though maybe the pumpkin risotto, hmmm which one to have.'
John stared at his wife as she flicked through the menu at Angelo's. Sarah had insisted they come out for something to eat, and even though John didn't feel like it he threw on a clean shirt and a fake smile and followed her out the door. Angelo had greeted them enthusiastically just like he always did. They had come to Angelo's quite a few times since moving to Bakerford. He remembered the first time he had stepped through the doors, feeling new, feeling like all eyes were on him. Now he was no longer a stranger, he was part of the furniture and no one paid any attention to him at all. There was a small part of him that was weirdly angry at that. He fiddled with his pint glass. They hadn't even ordered yet and he was already on his second. The bitter liquid went down his throat so smoothly. He couldn't seem to pace himself, he couldn't seem to stop.
The restaurant was heaving, all these smart middle class couples just like Sarah and himself. They all seemed so happy, he wondered what it would be like if he slipped into someone else's life. If he could just leave all this behind.
Sarah smiled at him 'What are you having honey?'
Honey? Why the fuck was she calling him honey? He felt nauseous, Sarah had been so sweet to him recently and it made him sick. After she had confronted him about the affair she had simply ignored it, ignored the tension around them and tried to be the perfect wife. She was sickly sweet, she did all the housework, the cooking, cleaning, ironing, John had tried to do some of it himself but she had batted him away and told him to go watch telly or walk the dog. She was straight out of some kind of 40's housewife manual, full of sweet loving words and actions.
It was as if she had somehow blamed herself for his actions and was trying to make it all up to him. That somehow he had had an affair simply because she wasn't a good enough wife. Which was just ludicrous. This wasn't his Sarah, the feisty, witty head strong women he married. Clearly he had dragged her down. He had had the affair, it wasn't anything to do with Sarah, he hadn't fallen in love with Sherlock simply because Sarah didn't iron his socks.
He just wished she would yell at him like he knew she wanted to. He hated how she was smiling, how she was acting like everything was just a-okay. Even when she confronted him she had been so calm, she hadn't yelled or got angry. He couldn't stand it. He wanted her to yell and scream, he wanted her to act like she cared about what he had done. That there was still enough between them that she would get emotional. He wanted her to forgive him, he didn't want to lose her. Right now he felt like he was in limbo, he had no idea if they had a future, not with Sarah acting like this, not now when Sarah was acting so emotionless.
He knew that underneath all the smiles their marriage hung on a knife edge. It was all so close to imploding. He wanted so badly for her to just shout at him, to call him horrible names, to hit him and just get it all out in the open. Maybe then they could move on. He wanted her to make him suffer. To take the moral high ground because she was the one that had been faithful. He just wanted her to show him she was actually human. Maybe she really didn't care, maybe all this didn't matter what he did, as long as the outside world saw her with a husband it didn't matter what went on. Of course this was stupid, they had been so in love, he wondered where it had all gone wrong. Maybe she was exactly like him, hanging on simply to honour the promise they had made.
'I don't care, just pick something.'
It didn't matter what he ate, he wouldn't enjoy it whatever it was. He wouldn't taste it, it would be like ash in his mouth like every meal he had. He only ate to keep going, sometime not even then. It had been two weeks since he had sent Sherlock away, even thinking his name caused him to fall apart. When he was all alone he allowed himself to cry. He cried and cried till there was nothing left. Nothing at all. By day he was haunted by the Sherlock's words and his sharp eyes, by night his dreams were filled with Mycroft's car pulling away and out of sight. He loved Sherlock more then life itself and he would have given anything to keep him. But he knew it was the right thing to do, Sherlock was in London now, the first step to his exciting new life. He didn't regret letting him go but god did it hurt. There was a pain in his chest ever since he couldn't see that car any more. Ever since he knew Sherlock was really gone. He couldn't eat or sleep. He just lived like a zombie, barely scraping through each day, doing just enough to keep alive and that was it. He hadn't smiled since Sherlock had left, he had felt nothing but a darkness seeping into his very soul. Not that he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve happiness, he deserved all the pain and anguish. He had wrecked his life, Sarah's, Sherlock's, he deserved all the unhappiness that had come his way. He had caused so much pain to the people who had loved him the most He hated himself, he had never hated anyone as much as he hated himself. He disgusted himself. He was selfish, cowardly, a liar, a horrid dirty filthy liar and if there was any justice he would simply be wiped from the face of the earth. There would be no mourners, everyone should just throw a massive great party that he was gone. Maybe he should end it all, a quick drop or a sharp knife and he would never hurt anyone else ever again. He felt like had fallen into a large pool of black and there was no climbing out of it.
Sarah bit her lip and exhaled in annoyance that John wasn't trying to get involved with the evening. The waitress came over and Sarah ordered a Carbonara and the pumpkin thing.
'Excuse me' John interrupted 'Can I get another one of these' he waved his almost empty beer glass.
'Certainly Sir.' The waitress took their menus away and returned a few minutes later with a fresh pint. John drained the old one and quickly started on the new one. Sarah scowled at him.
'Don't you think you should slow down?' She scowled.
'Nope.' John replied. He savoured the woozy feeling the beer was giving him. Soon he was at the stage where his inhibitions loosened and his brain was no longer in control of his mouth.
'Why are you being like this?'
'Like what?'
He sighed, he really hated Sarah right now. 'I've been having an affair Sarah, I've been sleeping with someone else for month's and you are acting like nothing happened.'
Sarah pinched her lips together and looked round at the busy restaurant hoping no one had heard his outburst. John didn't care, he hated those people. He didn't know them of course, but he hated them simply because they lived here. The whole restaurant could have heard them for all he cared.
'Do we have to talk about this now?'
'Yes.' he hissed. They had been dancing around this for two whole weeks now. 'Why are you doing this? Acting like everything's normal? I was having sex with someone else, I fell in love with someone so why the hell are you acting like some Stepford wife?'
'I told you I want to put it all behind us, can we just let this go?' She pleaded. John shook his head and grabbed her hand.
'No, I mean yes, of course I want to put it all behind us but I'm sick of this. I fucked someone else, I enjoyed it, I even said I loved them so stop being nice to me.' he gripped her hand far too tightly, the words spilled out of his mouth and he couldn't stop them. Sarah tried to pull away but John wouldn't let her.
'Stop it, just stop it.' Sarah yelled at him. John felt everyone in Angelo's swivel round and face him. Anger and pity at that poor women and that horrible man upsetting her.
John had had enough, he drank the last of his beer and threw on his jacket, running out of the restaurant. He heard Sarah scream his name behind him.
He stormed down the streets towards home. His heart beating so violently it felt like it would burst right out of his chest. He felt a stitch form in his stomach, the sharp stabbing pain underneath his ribcage.
'John! John stop please.' Sarah pleaded as she ran after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to a halt.
'Why are you letting this go?' John shouted at her far too loudly, he had drunk far too much to be calm and quiet.
'Can we not do this here?' Sarah pleaded 'Let's go home, we can discuss it there.' She tried to take his arm and lead him away but John refused to budge. He wanted to do this right out in the open, yelling in a street like some bad soap opera, he was silently thrilled.
'Tell me you hate, me. I know you want to' he continued 'Call me a bastard and a slut because that is exactly what I am.' The street was deserted, it was slightly odd going from a busy noisy restaurant to a silent street.
'I don't want to lose you John' She sniffed as she desperately tried to keep her composure. Finally he saw a crack in her façade.
'Then get angry at me, if you do there could be a chance for us.'
'Fine.' She snapped, hitting him hard on the arm. 'It killed me, it killed me knowing you were with someone else, lying in bed with you every single night knowing you were being unfaithful. I hate you, I really do, is that what you want to hear?'
John sighed in relief. That felt so much better. Finally he had a reaction. It was a relief, bringing her down into the gutter and now they were on the same level. He pulled her into a hug and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and John felt the dampness of her tears.
'I still love you.' she sniffed 'I still love you and that's the worst part. Knowing you can betray me like this and yet I still can't let go.'
'I love you to, I won't ever hurt you again I promise.' He gently rocked her from side to side.
'Come back to me.' Sarah whispered into his ear. Kind comforting words that he wanted to grab and hold onto. 'Just come back, forget everything that's happened, we can move on and be exactly as we once were, just stop pulling away from me.'
John nodded 'We can get through this, I know we can. I won't lose you, I just wont' he took out a packet of tissues from his pocket and handed one to his wife.
'Thank you.' she murmured and blew her nose, then wiped the skin underneath her eyes, her mascara had run slightly but he didn't tell her this. As if somehow ruining his wife's eye make up was tangible evidence of the pain he caused her. He wanted to see it, he wanted it to hurt.
'Come on.' she slipped her arm through his and they slowly walked away. 'Let's go home.'
'Well, do you like it?'
Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror and tried to take in the new sight. He couldn't quiet believe just how good he looked, he looked achingly cool, the long coat fit him like a glove and covered his frame in a secure blanket of black, he turned up the collar for added effect. He imagined running in it and it flapping behind him like a cape. He imagined how warm and snug he would feel with it on even in the depths of winter. There was nothing about the coat he didn't love, from the buttons right down to the coloured thread in the button hole. He never had a coat like this before, he didn't think he would ever take it off.
Mycroft still held the box it had come in as he looked over him. Deducing within seconds whether the fit was exactly as he had ordered it. Months of buying top of the range suits had left Mycroft somewhat of an expert in male tailoring. Mycroft had spent the past few weeks and a considerable amount of money completely updating Sherlock's wardrobe in preparation for Oxford. Expertly tailored trousers, silk shirts and suit jackets. Normally he hated Mycroft giving him anything, but a part of him enjoyed the hitting Mycroft's credit cards were getting, and he felt so at one with the coat.
'I bought you this as well, Autumn is coming so you will need to wrap up warm.'
Another expensive looking box handed to him, though this time inside was a blue scarf. He ran his fingers over the material, it was so soft. One glance and he knew it would offset the coat beautifully.
They were standing in the centre on Mycroft's living room. The flat was large and ornately decorated. It all looked like the inside of a Victorian gentlemen's club, the only sign that they were in the modern age was a large television screen that was hardly ever switched on and electric lighting. Though Sherlock had to admit, despite the glaring expense, it felt warm and homely. Not that he really felt at home here. He felt like he was muscling in on Mycroft's space, an outsider that wasn't really wanted. He couldn't wait for Oxford, he wanted out, he wanted a home of his own. He spent most of his time far away, he walked the streets of London, exploring and foraging around the city. He walked along every street he had been with John, even found the hotel they had stayed in. He debated going inside but instead sat on a bench and watched. He saw a smiling couple run up to the entrance, the man ran up to his girlfriend and pulled her into a kiss before running inside, he stormed off.
'I have a meeting tonight.' Mycroft interrupted his thoughts, 'There's some money on the mantelpiece if you want to get a takeaway.'
Sherlock nodded, he wasn't hungry but he would pocket the money anyway. It wasn't like Mycroft would miss it.
He was quite used to being alone now. Mycroft worked all day every day and Sherlock was mostly left to his own devices. Not that he really minded the hours of solitude. He was a loner, it was in his nature, he felt more comfortable on his own, wondering the streets of London on his own, he didn't need a babysitter.
'Fine.' Sherlock shrugged.
Later, wearing his new coat and scarf, he slipped out into the night. He had no particular place in mind, he just wanted to get out of the flat and walk out into the fresh air. Mycroft would be back late, still Sherlock made sure to make a lump in his duvet as a disguise, just in case he came snooping.
He walked and walked, right down to Bank tube station. He hoped that the walking and sounds of the city would calm his mind but it was no good. He couldn't stop thinking, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had left behind. John. He tried so hard to just leave it all behind, delete his memory and leave John in Bakerford, but it was no good. John prayed on his mind every single second of every single day. He wanted John back so badly, he wished John was still by his side. He would have done absolutely anything for that man, he would even have stayed in Bakerford, it didn't matter, a life time with John would be worth anything he would give up. But it was no good, John was gone now. He had loved him so much, he still did. He hated thinking about John, he hated the hurt. He wanted John so much, but he was old enough to realise simply wanting something didn't make it come true. He had lost John and he was never coming back.
He had expressed all the physical symptoms of heartbreak, he had cried, he had got angry, he had sulked and cried again. Now that was all gone, it was like his body had just shut down, nothing remained. He had expelled it all and now it was just too tired to continue. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat. His heart had just given up, so now all that he was was transport for his brilliant mind. He quickly made the decision to never love again, he would do nothing but think, he wouldn't simply turn off any emotions he had. He wouldn't be happy or sad, no more love or sex, he would live for his mind and that would be it.
He walked the back streets home. His epiphany weighing heavily on his mind. He thought of his new life, he decided he would be above everyone. They could love and fuck and hate and kill each other, he would play no part in it. He would be outside the circle of humanity, like someone looking through a window at the people inside. It would be better this way, all these walls he was building up meant he would never ever be hurt again. It didn't know why he hadn't done this in the first place. It was exciting, this new feeling, for the first time in a long time he felt entirely in control. He had shut it all off and now he could begin again.
Walking at a cross roads he heard shouting, a man running past him and into an ally way he knew to be a dead end. Suddenly a police officer came right into his personal space.
'All right mate did you see where he went?' The officer asked him, divorced, two, no three kids. Teenagers clearly by the way he was talking to him. Owns a Boarder collie.
'That way.' he pointed in the opposite direction.
'Thanks.' he spluttered then ran down the street. He watched till the policemen was out of sight and walked away.
'Hey.' A voice called out behind him, strong east end accent, obviously a petty drug dealer judging by the coat and hat. 'I owe you one man' he smiled at him. Sherlock shrugged.
'Are you all right, you look sad?' The man asked, tilting his head to the side and eyebrow raised. Sherlock laughed.
'I've never been psychoanalysed by a drug dealer before.'
The man shrugged. He was young, very young, he only looked a year or two older then himself, with black hair peeking out from under his hat and bright blue eyes, he was pretty, far too pretty for the life he had chosen. Father problems, kicked out of the house, used to be homeless though he was now staying in a squat, using drugs as an escape and selling them to survive.
'I could cheer you up, if you want. Got some good stuff.'
Sherlock's mind suddenly stopped. Should he? He had never tried drugs before. He heard John's voice in his head screaming no, but John wasn't here, no one was here. It was a way out, a distraction.
'Name's Charlie by the way.' Again Sherlock found himself chuckling.
'How very ironic.'
The man, Charlie, smiled. 'Yeah I know, so you want some or not?'
Sherlock thought hard for a few moments before pushing it all out of his mind. 'Sure.'
He walked with the into a nearby bar, Charlie lead him into the men's bathroom. Sherlock followed him once more into an empty cubicle. It was incredibly cramped with the two of them standing there. Sherlock watched as Charlie took out a small packet and laid out a white powder, using his credit card he cut it all out into two even lines. Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off Charlie as he pushed his right nostril closed and snorted.
'Shit' Charlie laughed as he wiped his nose. His pupils already the size of saucers. 'Go on.' he nodded at the second line.
Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he copied Charlie's actions. He felt the coke rush up his nose and right into his brain. The effects were immediate, he brain closed in with the rush and it took him a few seconds to compose himself. The euphoria was instant. His brain suddenly shot up into top gear. Clearly the smile was evident on his face.
Charlie laughed at him 'it's good right.'
Sherlock nodded. Soon a phone number was thrust into his hands.
'Plenty more where that came from. Ring me, any time. Here take this' The man dug inside his pocket and pulled out what looked like a hand rolled cigarette, except it was bigger. 'For the comedown.'
Sherlock gently took the spliff and put it inside his pocket for later.
'I got to go, but thanks mate, if it wasn't for you I would be in a jail cell.' he gave Sherlock a quick and awkward hug and left, leaving Sherlock behind in the cubicle. Sherlock sat on the toilet seat, taking a few moments to get his bearings. He laughed, the euphoria, the rush, he was in love. Everything was so clear and sharp. He walked out of the bar trying not to attract too much attention. The air outside would have been cold, but Sherlock couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the cocaine rushing through his system. He leaned against a wall and smoked the spliff Charlie had given him. He felt invincible, he felt unbreakable. The high didn't last long, he had only had one line after all, but it was enough to make him know he needed more of it.
He lay in bed at night, fully dressed as he had no intention of sleeping, the high had totally worn off and he felt a slight headache. Running his hand over the numbers Charlie had written down on the scrap piece of paper. He would ring tomorrow. He needed the powder again, when he had been high he had totally forgotten about John. It was so calming, know he knew he had a way out. Know he knew how to escape from all the pain. A small snort and John was gone, the heartbreak was gone, his life faded into nothing, everything was gone and it felt so good. Once again he had found solace in chemistry.
He wanted more, he couldn't wait. It was late but did drug dealers really keep regular hours. He decided to risk it and dialled the number into his phone, pressing the green button he held it to his ear.
His body may just be transport, but his brain needed the drug like he needed air. He felt it itch and yearn for this new sensation he had discovered. Nothing else seemed to matter. Nothing at all.