Thank you so much for the reviews! waiting for some more!
"You are a liar Dr Watson. You are just a bloody liar. Nothing else."
Every sip of the alcohol went down like acid. Intensifying the burning sensation underneath his skin. John was already too drunk to discern the time. Yet he kept on drinking, there seemed nothing of more importance, nothing more potent and nothing more reasonable than to drown every sense in the body in the fluid which would bring blissful oblivion. A soothing balm to all the senses which burned with Sherlock's scathing words.
His ears burned, Sherlock's words had entered them like molten lead, his skin burned from Sherlock's touch which scraped, his lips burned by the fiery breath which had touched them when Sherlock spoke. His whole respiratory system burned from the smell of Sherlock's blood, his breath, his sweat, the dirt on him and Him. His eyes burned as the sight of Sherlock's deprived, angry, disgusted look kept crawling back to them. His head burned as the poison of Sherlock's words continued to spread.
His heart burned at the realization that everything Sherlock said was true.
Make it stop. Please make it stop.
John fell from the sofa sobbing furiously holding his head in his hands. It would have been better if Sherlock had hit him with a red hot poker. He could have handled it, he could have treated it like any other wound like a doctor. He could have dealt with a wound he could see and touch. This unseen, undefined burning sensation went unattended, because it had no cure.
But it has.
Sherlock was the last sane though in John's mind before he gave in to oblivion.
With morning came determination, came resolve and came an unnerving hangover. But John had to think past it. He gathered himself up and readied himself to face some home truths. Like a crumpled paper is straightened out gradually by spreading it out firmly and pressing hands stroking it he started to flatten out his thoughts as he took aspirins, made tea and sat down with a cuppa.
First of all, he thought I don't love Mary.
This was hard to profess. Mary had been a substantial part of the known stable life John was living for so long. She had been more than a friend, he had been an anchor, she had been a stabilizer in times of unrest, she was truthful, dutiful and committed to John.
"She certainly has NOT done anything to deserve something like this."
Harry's words from their last conversation echoed in his mind.
She's right. Mary doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to be deceived like this. She doesn't deserve to be dragged on like this. She doesn't deserve to be lied to for such a long time. She deserves a much better man, a man who actually knows what he wants and is not irrecoverably screwed up like me. She deserves a fine life and some truthful answers from me.
This is going to be hard. John thought swallowing as a series of expected reactions crossed through his mind.
He quickly switched his mind to another crucial matter at hand.
He had to find Sherlock. At any cost.
That is going to be near impossible.