Again, I am so, so sorry. I've been really stressed out lately but I am going to get better :) If I lost any readers, I'm sorry I took too long. And for those who continue to read, thank you for being loyal and forgiving :) I hope this chapter is enjoyable and fluffy
Chapter 37
Jo-Ann felt the fire grow closer and closer to her defenseless body. With all the strength she could muster, she tensed her muscles and shouted.
"Help!" she yelled and drew out her breath as long as she could. A second passed and Jo-Ann feared she still wasn't heard. But the sound of a scream very near told her she was. She heard gasps and alarmed cries after the child's scream. "Help!" She shouted again, only more strained this time as she tried to rock to her side, anything to get away from the flames.
"Oh my God!" Sherlock shouted and turned the brakes, forcing the motorcycle to stop. Marius hopped off as quick as he could to avoid falling and watched Sherlock leave the bike on its side, quickly running into the crowd. "Move! MOVE!" he shouted and pushed people out of the way. Marius caught on, and instantly followed.
Jo-Ann squirmed away from the fire best she could, surprised that no one was attempting to save her. Didn't these people care that she was about to be burned alive?! But hope suddenly came rushing back to her as she heard someone shout through the crowd. They were commanding people to move and got louder and louder, causing Jo-Ann to realize who it was.
Sherlock!
"Move, move, MOVE!" the detective continued to yelling and finally breached the crowd. "Jo-Ann!" He bellowed and rushed over to the fire, not even hesitating before reaching into the flames. "Jo-Ann!" he threw small branches out of the way, trying to get to his doctor. Marius joined in shouting but stood back as he watched the man dive into fire.
"Help!" Jo-Ann shouted loud and clear, aiding the detective's search and calling for him. Smoke clouded her vision and made her eyes sting and water with pain. Relief would have to wait with the feeling of immense heat by her legs, but hope was still there.
Sherlock fiercely shoved crates and wood out of the way, ignoring the raging flames. He needed to get to her, before it was too late! This was one of the few occasions that the detective showed how desperate he truly was. He caught a glimpse of her hand and instantly went for it. Their hands connected and formed a firm hold. Sherlock pulled her toward him and grabbed further up her arm.
The crowd watched in horror as he dragged a motionless body from the fire. Marius helped Sherlock by taking a hold of the doctor's legs and getting her further from the fire. Jo-Ann relaxed her muscles in relief as she was turned on her back, finally able to breathe. Her head swam with blurred vision and her neck was a little burned, but she was safe.
"Jo-Ann! Jo-Ann…" Sherlock tapped her face gently and examined her for injuries. Jo-Ann struggled to focus her sight but she knew who she saw. Sherlock and Marius, looking worried but relieved, kneeled on either side of her. The doctor let happiness outweigh the shock and lost consciousness.
The next few hours were nothing but a blur to Jo-Ann. There was the sound of sirens, loud and overlapping voices, hands touching her, lifting her, taking care of her. Obviously it was paramedics, but the constant feel of her hand being held was someone else. It could have been Marius, making sure she was okay like he always did. But Jo-Ann didn't want it to be him. She desperately wanted it to be Sherlock.
The detective waited by her side in the hospital, just as he did in Italy. He knew she would be fine, the doctors said her lungs were clear and head injury was nothing too serious, although she would have to stay overnight. Sherlock even smiled a bit when he acknowledged the fact her hair was short again. She did that for him, whether she said so or not. It certainly wasn't for that tutor… hopefully. Sherlock sighed and glanced over at Marius, who was opposite to him, holding Jo-Ann's hand and whispering something. Jealousy rose in the detective as a glance turned into a stare. The man hadn't let go of her hand since they entered the ambulance. Sherlock thought about doing the same, but they couldn't both hold her hand and Marius beat him to it.
"What are you whispering?" Sherlock spoke up. He knew it was a song of some kind, similar to when Jo-Ann almost murdered him outside the library. Marius looked up at him with a bit of surprise.
"It's her lullaby." The tutor answered simply.
"Why would a grown woman need a lullaby?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"Why would her boyfriend fake his death and leave for two years?!" Marius snapped with a lower volume than normal, he didn't want to wake Jo-Ann. Sherlock leaned back with a neutral expression. He was getting angry now? Now that she couldn't see. Marius looked back down to the sleeping doctor, looking far more serious than he had ever been. "She didn't sleep, you know." He started out, calmer. "She couldn't most nights. I was the one to drive over half passed two in the morning to hear about what nightmare she had about you." Marius looked up at him with an angry glare, one that carried over pain that Jo-Ann had felt no doubt. "They were awful."
"I had my reasons." Sherlock responded, but not as loud as he would have any other time. He was well aware of her pain, the lack of sleep, and regretted his actions every second. "I said sorry, isn't that what you're supposed to do?" Marius laughed lightly and looked at Sherlock with less anger and more curiosity.
"You don't know anything about human nature, do you?" he asked.
"Human? No. Nature?... no." Sherlock smiled slightly. Marius chuckled and glanced back over at Jo-Ann.
"That lullaby, it's the one her parents sang to her when she was a child." He admitted and looked back to Sherlock, who seemed rather confused.
"Why would she tell you that? I've never heard of this." The detective asked with envy.
"I think she was embarrassed to tell you." Marius laughed and stood up. "I'm going to the canteen, want anything?"
"No, I'm fine." Sherlock waved a hand and went back to staring at his doctor. Marius stopped at the door for a moment, and Sherlock looked down at his hands and closed them tightly. If there was any way he could have avoided his disappearance, he would have. But the way things happened, what Moriarty chose to do, there just were no options. If he did anything differently than he did, Jo-Ann's safety would have been compromised…But did he hurt her more by leaving?
As if on cue, Jo-Ann stirred in her sleep, gently moving her head from left to right. Sherlock quickly switched his attention to her and moved his seat closer.
"Jo-Ann? Are you awake?" the detective asked. The doctor scrunched her eyes tight before slowly opening them. She looked at the ceiling first, then her heart monitor, like she was determining where she was. "Jo-Ann?" Sherlock tried again. She jumped a little and looked over to him, eyes still squinted from exhaustion.
"Who are you?" Jo-Ann asked with a hoarse voice, from the drug most likely. Sherlock was a bit surprised but just assumed it was her fatigue that made her confused.
"It's me, Sherlock, Jo-Ann. Don't tell me you lost your memory." He joked as he touched the bandage on her forehead.
"You're not Sherlock." The doctor told him seriously, but quietly. The detective met her gaze as soon as he heard this. So she knew who Sherlock Holmes was, but was telling him he couldn't be himself?
"Why not?" he asked, a bit offended.
"He left me…" Jo-Ann answered in a whisper. "He left me behind."
Sherlock let his smile fall as a sinking sensation settled in his gut. She was talking nonsense! He was right there! Unless… unless she thought he was still dead. No doubt the shock and drowsiness from pain medication made her a little slow. But… was she saying how she felt? Sherlock just sat there and let his mouth hang slightly open, not sure of what to say.
"How do you suppose he ever loved me?" Jo-Ann chuckled a little to herself with wet eyes, from both sleepiness and heartache. Sherlock looked down and tried to say something, anything. But he could never take away her pain… he would never earn her forgiveness.
"I don't know how you ever loved him…" he whispered so quietly, people would think they imagined it. He lifted his head to say more, but saw she had already fallen back asleep. Sherlock sighed and slumped his shoulders. He was never good with words anyway, not without preparation. After a moment of thought, however, he realized he did have prepared words. Letters, to be exact.
Jo-Ann's eyes shot open. Her head felt better, her legs could move, and her throat was no longer sore.
"Thank God for pain medication." Jo-Ann thought. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up fully. How long had she been there? It couldn't have been long, she wasn't severely burned, although she was close. She reached for the bed remote and raised the bed to sit up with a heavy sigh. She scanned the room, wondering if Sherlock or Marius happened to be there, but they weren't. Shaking her head gently, she reached for the call button to ask a nurse when she could leave, but her fingertips found something else. Jo-Ann looked down to the nightstand and was surprised to see a book sitting there. But the book seemed oddly familiar, nostalgic even.
With little hesitation, Jo-Ann took the book in her partially bandaged hands and untied the suede string. The edges of the page were a little damaged, by dirt or tears or both, but the center read very clearly what Jo-Ann remembered writing years ago.
"To keep track of our adventures, Sherlock… - Jo-Ann."
The doctor was astounded to find the supposedly forgotten journal in her hands, actually used. Curiosity beckoned her forward as she flipped the page, not entirely sure what to expect. What she was not expecting was to be plunged into a sudden world of dangerous cases that her eyes were probably not permitted to see. The thrilling and complex writing made it seem like it was fiction, but Jo-Ann knew that whatever was in this book was what Sherlock had spent two years working on.
However, aside from the adrenaline laced ink and intricate plots, Jo-Ann noticed notes written down in the margins that had no relevance to the current cases. They were letters of longing, care, or just casual greeting as if the person would write back.
And they were all addressed to her.
Dear Jo-Ann, this case is giving me hell. It would be so much easier if you were here.
Dear Jo-Ann, we're getting a bee hive when I get home.
Dear Jo-Ann, please get out of my head for at least one second. It's incredibly disorienting.
Dear Jo-Ann, I take back what I said in my last letter; your input is often useful to point out the completely obvious. If only you were here to give it in person.
Dear Jo-Ann, why do people love? It is the most illogical, idiotic, error-riddled, and stupid thing anyone could ever do. And here I am.
Dear Jo-Ann, almost done. Well by "almost" I mean past halfway. This would go a lot faster if you weren't distracting me. And yes, it is your fault.
There were dozens more, scattered throughout the beaten book from beginning to end. Jo-Ann smiled and read every one, feeling a joy she hadn't had a glimpse of in years and having it only increase with each letter. Here, in her hands, was the proof that not only did she mean something to Sherlock, but that she was constantly on his mind despite the trials he went through. Hell, the letters even told her that she was what got him through the trials. The doctor beamed with teary eyes, until she reached the last page. It was a full message to her. No cases in the center or mathematics running over a few words, just her. And she gained a sudden understanding of seriousness.
Dear Jo-Ann, I've been found by Mycroft. I'm coming back home. So, before I attempt to reconnect with those I left, I want to make something perfectly clear. I love you with all my heart, Jo-Ann. It's a problem, I must admit, but one I am willing to accept. When I reveal myself, I will have no official prediction of how you will react (now that Mycroft has planted possibilities in my head) so whether you decide to embrace me, strangle me, or ignore me, know that you are the one and only person I would want to stay with indefinitely and that I can find absolutely no reason for you to feel the same way. Please forgive me, Jo-Ann, you're all I have.
The game is back on.
-Sherlock
Jo-Ann sniffed and wiped the tear that as threatening to fall away. Her heart warmed at the thought of him writing this down, worried about her reaction and trying to ignore his brother. She smiled and closed the journal, setting it back on the nightstand. It was then that she decided to never speak of his death the same way again. It was no longer an act that Sherlock committed without thought or consideration for those he loved. It was a trial that hurt him as well. They all changed because of it and they all felt the pain.
Now, they could all move on as well. Together.
All Jo-Ann had to do now was awkwardly tell Sherlock of this forgiveness while casually asking who tried to kill her the day before.