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It took John a whole month to finally register the fact fully that whatever happened was a mistake and he was lucky enough to have gotten out of a situation of which he could have lost control completely.

He decided it was about time he fulfilled his duty towards Mary. The commitment would also help him avoid future disruptions of this kind. He knew internally that he was still conflicted and his reasoning for the engagement was not right. He hadn't got to the crux of the problem which led him to such a situation in the first place, he still didn't have the answer as to why he had kept Mary waiting for so long and why had he fallen for an unknown man.

He decided some questions were better left unanswered. Especially when there were high chances of finding facts that could turn his life upside down. He left the places unexplored remain so. Sherlock had read him wrong he guessed. He was afraid of the unexplored after all.

It was a big day for the doctor. Today he was going to convey his wish to entwine his life with Mary to her. He had bought a beautiful ring and after much consideration he had settled on the venue where this significant confession was going to take place. His home, 221B Baker Street. As this was an intimate matter he wanted to make every aspect of it very personal. He himself had picked Mary's favourite flowers to decorate the house, he would prepare the food himself and was off to buy her favourite wine.

Mary would be pleasantly surprised by this simple but intimate gesture. He thought. She's a simple person with simple desires. He sighed involuntarily feeling heavy hearted suddenly. He chastised himself quickly. So am I.

Once everything was set he would call and invite her over. He had confirmed previously that she didn't have any prior engagement that evening. Everything was perfect. Everything should work out finely.

Sometimes while walking on an unfamiliar road when you face a turn you feel a certain anxiety, you don't know what's waiting for you at the turn. You don't know if it would turn out to be your worst mistake if you take that turn, sometimes you have a choice to back out. Sometimes you don't. And sometimes you just take a turn voluntarily just for the thrill of it. You don't face such anxiety or expect such thrill while walking on a familiar road. But the fact is the twists of fate, the turn of life can make a road well acquainted very unfamiliar and can put a certain amount of unexpected trouble in your way just like that.

John took the turn just to walk into disaster. Once again.

As he approached an alley on his side he looked away on purpose. He had made it a point not to look into such places anymore. He wanted to avoid the person who might just emerge from there again instead of seeking him anymore.

A sound made him look back.

Time stood still. John closed his eyes filled with regret for a moment, conceding defeat and opened them filled with concern for the man in front.

Sherlock was leaning on a waste bin heavily, holding the lid with both his shaking hands. His lower lip bled profusely. He was panting hard.

Feeling John's presence he turned his head to the side. John saw as his expression gradually changed from disbelief to utter contempt at John's presence. He looked deprived of every basic need for several days. Sherlock looked away.

Something inside John broke at the look. His words seeped from his mouth without his consent.

"Sherlock! What the hell has…"a look of disgust halted him midway.

Disgust!

"Leave me." the baritone spoke looking away again. As if it physically hurt him to look at John for a longer period of time.

John wished he could.

"You're hurt." His voice a barely audible whisper.

"Oh! Am I?" A sarcastic smile from the man.

"You're bleeding." John said swallowing, lowering his gaze. He just couldn't look at the man. His eyes were so accusing. John knew this was not his fault but somehow he felt responsible. Sherlock's eyes made him feel responsible.

"Yes I am." the man said contemptuously.

"Let me…" John said mustering some courage.

"Just leave."

John looked up as if electrocuted.

"You cannot see my wounds."

The man's eyes set fire to John's soul. He stood mortified. Sherlock turned and started to walk away. Something took over John. He went after him and caught him by the sleeve of his coat. Only to be pushed away vehemently.

"Don't touch me!" Snarled Sherlock.

"Sherlock please." John could barely speak, he was breathing hard, he couldn't think properly and felt like the ground was melting away beneath his feet.

"Haven't people told you to stay away from me?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Haven't they told you that I want to manipulate you into letting me inside your house? Haven't they told you that a homeless man like me may only want one thing from you? Aren't you afraid John? Don't you think I was luring you into some trap? Don't you think that even now I'm trying to break you off from your girlfriend and make you mine for the sake of monetary gain?"

Something was creeping up John's chest and making it very difficult to keep breathing.

The man laughed looking at him. A sarcastic, half maniacal laugh that made John shiver.

"Sherlock…"

The man stopped laughing and looked at him gravely.

"What doctor Watson? Are you going to play doctor again? You want to treat my wounds because you're a doctor?"

The man came towards John and gripped his shoulders so tightly that John felt them bruise.

Sherlock looked into John's eyes with burning anger and absolute repulsion.

"You are a liar Dr Watson. You are just a bloody liar. Nothing else." Sherlock spat out the words like they were poison. They pierced John like poisoned arrows.

He let go of John. And with one final warning he went away.

"I never want to see your face again."

John stood there leaning on the wall as darkness and cold engulfed him slowly.

Mary wasn't invited that night. The ring was tucked away safely.