Author's note- Fun fact: We have over 22,600 views on this story! Thank you all so much. I willingly admit that last chapter was one of the worst in the story and I apologise. It's actually really difficult to re-do The Reichenbach fall to include Lucy while staying as true as possible to the TV show. I already have a good idea how to set some of it out thanks to a certain LostMatrixx.
TRIGGER WARNING FOR THOUGHTS OF SELF HARM!
Disclaimer- Now this is the problem... the final problem... I did tell you- but did you listen? It's going to start very soon readers, the disclaimer. But don't worry, disclaimers are just me rambling except there's a bit more point to them. I owe you a disclaimer. I, owe, you.
Chapter 35 (Halfway to chapter 70!)
A tense feeling seemed to hang in the air at 221B Baker Street the following day. John had gone off early to witness the rest of Moriarty's trial and would ring them as soon as they had the verdict. But Sherlock already knew what it would be. The consulting detective knew that this was definitely only the beginning, and he knew it would end badly one way or the other- and yet, he wasn't worried. The only thing he was truly concerned about was Lucy. With sharp, keen eyes he glanced up over his experiment in the kitchen and looked at where the teenager sat, watching an episode of some type of crime series on the TV.
He could see her depression was slowly beginning to be lifted. Of course, he had read up on these things and had done extensive research just to be sure. Sherlock knew it was something that would be hard to get rid of, and even then you never are fully rid of it- it will always be lurking, waiting to pounce. But for now, she seemed happier in herself. And the difference was obvious over the months. She hadn't spoken much about her time with Lisa, but he knew that the counselling was going well. Lucy had taken a lot of the advice on board and had greatly reduced her self harm. She still cut, quite a lot sometimes, but it was better than it was. Sherlock sighed. He wasn't sure however how long it would last. And to think, he may be the cause of a massive relapse wasn't the best feeling in the world.
And this is where his reasoning stemmed from.
Out of everyone, Lucy wouldn't cope as well as the others- obviously. So if anything happened to Sherlock, then it would hit her hard and she could very well relapse badly. This is why Sherlock wanted to distance himself. Sherlock thought back to the conversation he had had with Mycroft not that long ago...
"Do you have any idea of the damage you could inflict on her?" Mycroft warned his brother as he folded his arms.
"I think it would lessen the overall damage if anything." Sherlock muttered defiantly.
"Do explain, dear brother."
"She'll be the worst affected if anything were to happen to me." Sherlock started, "And we're already quite... close... so being any closer to me will make the impact even worse. If I distance myself from her, and we aren't as close, then if anything were to happen, it wouldn't hurt her as much as if we were as close as we are now."
"It's a stupid idea." Mycroft frowned, "You'll just hurt her in the process."
"Sometimes, risks and sacrifices must be made to create the best possible outcome."
"Sherlock..."
"No Mycroft... there's no other way." Sherlock interrupted, dead set on his idea. "I don't want to hurt her either way but... this is the only way."
"And what about John?"
"He'll be able to cope better than Lucy." Sherlock sighed, "But I expect you to be keeping a very close eye on both of them."
"Of course." Mycroft stood up about to walk away, but he quickly turned around, "Oh and Sherlock... please be careful."
Sherlock glanced back up at Lucy, knowing how nasty things could turn in the space of a year. He'd disengaged himself socially and suppressed all kinds of emotional attachment for many years until John had come along; Sherlock reasoned that he was only human, but for now, he'd have to be careful. The consulting detective took out the Petri dish from under the microscope and placed it back in the breadbin. The silence was heavy and thick, not that Sherlock minded, but he could see how restless the young girl was becoming. He observed her as she scratched absentmindedly at her arms, and he felt a twinge of guilt- but he quickly suppressed it.
"How are you doing?" Sherlock asked her as he sat down in his favourite chair, bored that he had nothing to do.
"Fine."
"Define, fine."
"I'm doing okay." She rephrased her answer.
"Let me see your arms." Sherlock ordered softly. Lucy shot him a surprise glance, he rarely- if ever- requested to see her arms, so she was confused as to why he would want to now.
"Why?" She asked cautiously.
"Just let me see," his tone was authoritative and impatient but still gentle so- with a heavy sigh- Lucy complied.
With a slow deliberate movement, she carefully rolled up both of her sleeves until just past the elbow. Sherlock took her arms in his hands and turned them, observing the abused skin. Almost all of the news ones were shallow, there was only a couple that were a little deep- but they looked a lot better than before. There were still many healing, and a lot of them would probably leave a scar, but Sherlock was generally pleased with the progress. The detective frowned; the skin and cuts were very red and sore looking.
"You haven't been looking after yourself very well," he commented in a deep murmur.
"I don't need your opinion." She snapped. She seemed to be a lot more irritable lately. Sherlock looked up at her with sharp eyes.
"You do if you want to not have an infection. You need to look after yourself and your skin whether you want to or not." He matched her annoyed tone. "At least put some antiseptic on it. Do you not realise that they're on their way to infection? Red and sore. Time you learnt that."
"What's with you today?" She looked shocked.
"I could ask the same." There was a silence.
"Yeah I know I'm being difficult, I'm sorry. It's just hitting me hard with this whole Moriarty thing- that's all." Lucy admitted, looking a little ashamed of herself. Sherlock hummed once in acknowledgement. The detective sprang up and stalked off into his bedroom- before quickly returning.
"Here." He muttered, chucking a tube of antiseptic cream at her, "Use that. You can keep it in your room."
An hour or so later, Sherlock was lying on the sofa and Lucy was watching a DVD. The consulting detective was muttering to himself, when his mobile ringtone cut through the otherwise quiet of the flat. Lucy immediately paused the DVD and her eyes swiftly fixed on her flatmate. Sherlock sat up and answered his mobile, putting it on loudspeaker.
"Not guilty." Lucy heard John say on the other end and that's all she needed to hear.
With adrenaline coursing through her and her heart beating faster than she liked, the troubled teenager immediately stood up and left the flat without another word.
"You do know he'll be after you Sherlock," John told him. "How's Lucy?"
"You were on loudspeaker," Sherlock Holmes informed him, "And she ran off after hearing 'not guilty.'" He stood up and walked to the kitchen, "Quite frankly I'm not surprised."
"You need to go after her Sherlock!" John told him in a panic.
"No I don't. She can take care of herself. Besides, she probably needs to be alone." Sherlock shrugged to himself.
"Sherlock!" John said in shock.
"Look if you're that bothered, then I would suggest that you go and find her, I have something to do."
"You know what? I will. She may need someone right now." John sighed, "Please Sherlock, you need to think about her a little more than you are at the moment."
Sherlock hung up and flicked the switch on the kettle. He was, after all, expecting a visitor.
Lucy just kept walking, too shocked to care or cry anymore. Eventually, she ended up in a park she didn't really recognise, but she didn't care. Not guilty. The verdict was, not guilty. A part of her had expected it. Despite the fact that the evidence was all there, he could find a way to set himself free with ease. The park was busy but she found a quiet spot by a tree to sit down under, running a hand through her hair and exhaling a breath she had been holding in. This meant that Moriarty was back on the streets. And that was never a good thing. Lucy felt tired, she felt so very exhausted. It was like her muscles just didn't want to work anymore and her brain no longer wanted to function. Her skin itched that oh so familiar itch. A craving, for the silver blades that lay waiting for her to return. An urge, so powerful it had her addicted. But she couldn't even be bothered to cut herself.
No doubt John would be looking for her at some point, so she decided to just start walking again through the bustling streets of London. She didn't want to be with John or anyone, she wanted to be alone. Left alone to her intrusive thoughts- but it was so much easier than facing anyone...
"I never liked riddles." Sherlock said to his nemesis as he stood up and fixed his jacket buttons.
"Learn to," James Moriarty told him in a low voice, "Because I owe you a fall Sherlock. I, owe, you." He left the red apple he'd been playing with on the table. They looked each other in the eye. "Oh, before I forget... how's our dear Lucy?"
"None of your business."
"Clever one- that girl. I enjoyed playing with her."
"And you'll leave her alone now." Sherlock glared at him. Moriarty just smirked.
"Give her my best." The consulting criminal looked at him with a dangerous expression before taking his leave with another smirk. Sherlock watched him leave, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He picked up the apple. IOU.
Shortly after, John decided to call Sherlock again.
"Has Lucy returned?" The ex army doctor asked, trying not to let the concern in his voice show.
"No."
"I've tried calling her, she won't answer."
"Well that would explain what that ringing was, coming from her bedroom," Sherlock muttered, mostly to himself.
"She's left her phone behind?" John practically yelled.
"Calm down, I'm sure she'll be back soon."
But it was almost eight at night and she still hadn't returned. John had come back after the phone call and it was obvious how worried he was. Sherlock tried to tell him that Lucy would come back when she was ready- but John was having none of it.
"She must be in a state Sherlock!" John said, frustrated, "She probably doesn't even know where she is, and she probably doesn't even care. She could get herself badly hurt. And it's getting really dark now. I'm calling Lestrade and Mycroft?" Sherlock just watched as John dialled up the number for his brother.
"Mycroft? Yeah it's me, John." There was a pause. "Lucy's missing. I suppose you know the verdict of the trial, but needless to say, she ran off. Your little brother thought it would be fine and that we should give her space- but she's been gone for several hours, it's getting dark and I'm worried." There was another pause. "Okay, thanks." John hung up.
"Well?" Sherlock queried.
"He hasn't had any surveillance on her- but he's sent a car out to look for her. I think he's actually gone with them." John shook his head and rang Lestrade's number.
"Greg, it's me." John said, "Look, Lucy's gone missing." The good doctor proceeded to explain what had happened in an increasingly worried tone of voice. But regardless, Lestrade had gone out to look for her as well. "Come on Sherlock, let's go." John ordered.
"Why?"
"We need to find her you idiot! We can't sit around doing nothing." John shouted.
It was dark. The hour was approaching midnight and Lucy stayed sitting on the park bench. The teenager had taken to walking until her feet ached and then sitting down to rest before walking again. She had absolutely no idea where she was- and she didn't really want to know where she was. Her mind was a jumbled place. She didn't want to return home. Because she was scared that as soon as she got through that door, she would grab her blades and rip open every last inch of skin until she bled to death. And she didn't want that. She'd realised a few hours ago that she had left her phone at home, and that John would be worried- and maybe Sherlock would be- but she didn't care. Lucy knew she was selfish and horrible for not caring, but she couldn't summon the energy or will to care about much anymore.
It was past midnight when she saw the sleek black car across the road from the park. She ducked down behind the bushes and waiting, watching. Eventually the car moved on. That meant that Mycroft was out looking for her. She was surprised she hadn't seen a car until now, but she'd have to be careful. Selfish, stupid, selfish idiot. She hated herself. But it was the worst thing in the world- wanting to reassure John and Sherlock but not wanting to go back because she didn't want to throw all of the hard work to reduce her self harm down the drain. Lucy started walking again. By now the streets were extremely quiet- and so were the parks, and the troubled teenager was so glad of the calm, quiet.
She felt dizzy. She felt exhausted. It was one in the morning and it was pitch black apart from the streetlights illuminating the world around her. Her head swam and spots appeared in front of her eyes. She hadn't eaten or drank much in a while. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She reached the park that Sherlock had taken her to the other day. And it was then that she realised how far she had walked. Lucy entered the park. It was deserted. She sat down on the bench in the field and blinked a few times while clawing at her arms, desperate for some kind of release from the pain.
It was half one in the morning. She wasn't even aware of the time anymore. She felt tired, but too tired to sleep. Everything was too much. She was overreacting. It was only a verdict. Not guilty. But it just confirmed that things would be worse several months down the line. Her parents hated her. She had no family. That cut into her more than the blade ever would. All it would take is just a bottle of pills and a bottle of alcohol, or a deep cut across the neck. So intrusive... the thoughts were excruciating.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Were those footsteps?
Was that a flashlight?
Tick tock, tick tock.
She wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Those were definitely footsteps.
No!
She didn't want them to take her back.
Maybe she was being a little too hysterical.
"She's over there!" A voice in the distance called, with a huge tone of pure relief.
With panicked eyes, Lucy looked up.
Lestrade and Sherlock were striding towards her, trying to appear non-threatening. Greg was frantically talking to John and Mycroft on the phone. Apparently they weren't far away.
They were approaching her.
No.
Lucy stood up, fighting against the white stars that swam in her vision. She began to back away. Sherlock and Lestrade held up their hands, worry and confusion in their eyes.
"Lucy, please, it's all okay," Sherlock told her calmly.
"Lucy, it's all fine, you don't have to run. We just want to help," Lestrade said gently.
The teenager couldn't cope. She felt completely numb and she didn't completely know why. It scared her. She wanted to cut so badly. To feel the sharpness as it ripped through her skin and feel the release of pain as the blood bubbled to the surface. But they kept talking and taking tentative steps. She couldn't hear what they said. Her head hurt.
She turned and ran.
"Lucy! Wait!" Sherlock yelled. But she was fast, even when so exhausted.
The troubled girl had run into a forest. Trees swamped the way as there were barely any traces of a clear path to walk on. The two men followed in pursuit. Worried as to what was going on. John and Mycroft had eventually arrived at the park and quickly walked to where they saw Sherlock and Lestrade run in pursuit of the teenager. Mycroft looked at John, both eyes showed their concern. They sped up their pace.
Lucy kept running. She no longer remembered why she was running, but she could hear the footfalls behind her and she was too scared to stop and wait to be caught. She looped around, heading back towards the entrance of the forest- but startled at the sight of Mycroft and John.
"Lucy!" John exclaimed in relief.
"No." Was all Lucy could say as she backed off away from them. The footfalls sounded louder until Sherlock and Greg came to a sudden stop, their eyes flicking from the other two to Lucy.
"Lucy, please, we just want to help." Sherlock held his hands up again, concerned at how she was acting. She wasn't herself- they all knew this.
"No," She shook her head, fighting the fog that clouded her vision as she kept backing off into the open field. Out of the forest they all followed her. To Lucy, they looked intimidating. And she was scared. "Don't, please stop."
"Lucy, everything is going to be alright," John said calmly. "Just trust us."
"No..."
"What's going on?" Greg asked.
"I don't know," Mycroft murmured, looking confused and feeling awkward being there.
Lucy stumbled backwards and struggled to regain her balance.
"Lucy, you're not well," John murmured, his doctor instincts kicking in. "Let us get you home. You need food and water."
Lucy's mind was screaming. Everything ached. The stars burst in front of her eyes and everything was becoming foggy again. She felt her knees buckle and Sherlock and Greg rushed forwards to catch her. Taking a step away, she felt the blackness overwhelm her as she fainted. Sherlock Holmes huffed out a sigh.
"This isn't the first time this has happened." He muttered, "Remember she ran off and collapsed months ago during that particular case?"
"I wonder why this has happened again." Greg ran a hand through his silver hair.
"She must have been walking almost all day," Sherlock observed, "She hasn't had much to eat or drink in a while, it's no surprise she fainted from exhaustion. I know Moriarty's verdict has probably scared and messed her up, but I don't know why she got like this." He lifted her sleeves up a little bit. "She's scratched her arms badly. She was obviously fighting the urge and probably felt suicidal. Maybe she was scared to return..."
"In case she relapsed badly?" Mycroft finished.
"Exactly." Sherlock muttered.
"I'll take you and John back," Greg said as Sherlock lifted the unconscious girl up.
"Thanks Greg," John smiled. "But Sherlock, you need to be careful in future. You should have gone after her."
"Let's not play the blame game." The detective said bluntly as they carried her back to the car.
Author's note- yeah, I'm not really sure what happened with this after Lucy ran off. I don't even know anymore, it just happened. Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.