Sherlock had imagined John's reaction many times, ranging from the apocalyptically angry to sobbing like a child. All such scenarios however, involved John being conscious. Sherlock rushed to the older man's side and began to carefully examine his injury, he had a bad bump on the back of his head but was otherwise okay. Normally something like that would of resulted in a bad headache, but not unconsciousness.
Gently, the detective picked his friend up and placed him on the couch with the Union Jack pillow cushioning his head. Sherlock's eyes danced over his form taking in all the details.
Lost quite a bit of weight, not purposefully, most likely forgets to eat at least once or twice a day.
A shade paler than last time I saw him.
Dark circles around the eyes but no worse than when I first met him. Nightmare have returned.
He stumbled backwards using his non preferred leg, his limp has returned.
Conclusion: John is not okay.
Sherlock had just enough time to freeze in place as John came to, he had no idea what to say! So his body settled on becoming a statue.
John blinked a few times before his eyes came to rest of Sherlock's frozen features and then to Sherlock's great shock he chuckled.
"You'd think I'd remember killing myself." he muttered darkly, Sherlock felt what little blood he had in his face drain out.
John thought he was dead? That he'd killed himself? Mycroft hadn't mentioned John was contemplating...that. Sherlock's brain was suddenly assaulted with the image of John laying lifeless with his gun in his hand and blood soaking into the white sheets of his bed. He flinched at the thought.
"John you're not dead." Sherlock said finally, "Neither am I."
John's eyes widened as he inevitably remembers the events leading up to his current predicament. He shot up into the sitting position, rubbing the tender lump on the back of his head.
He then got up to face Sherlock slowly, eyes never leaving the mans face as if he were afraid Sherlock might disappear. Sherlock wasn't really sure what to do, there weren't exactly many WikiHow links on how to apologize to your friend after faking your death.
"Why?" John said finally, Sherlock almost flinched at how empty the voice sounded.
"I had to." Sherlock replied, "Moriarty had snipers on You, Lestrade and Ms. Hudson. I had to do it."
"So why didn't you come back?" John pleaded, "Why did you make me watch?"
"It had to be believe able, your grief as well." Sherlock muttered.
"Right..." John muttered.
Sherlock's gaze shifted to the floor, he was about to explain further when pain blossomed across his face and he realized John had just punched him.
"You utter bastard!" John yelled, "How could you?! How could you let me think you'd killed yourself? You could of told me! Given me a hint! Anything!"
"I told you it had to be-"
"Convincing!" John spat, "You put me through three years of hell for convincing!"
"You would of been killed." Sherlock whispered.
"I don't care! Anything would of been better than the last three years Sherlock!" John cried, "Do you have any idea how close I've come to putting a bullet through my brain because of what you did?!"
"I didn't know." Sherlock replied dejectedly, "I had to take down Moriarty's network, I couldn't tell you."
"I had to watch my best friend die Sherlock." John growled, "Did you forget that I suffer from PTSD? Did you not realize that seeing my best friend jump off a building and bleed out onto the pavement might create some issues for me!?"
"It was the only-"
"No it wasn't Sherlock! It was the easy way!"
"You think it was easy?" Sherlock yelled, "To leave behind everything and every one to hunt down all of Moriarty's men?"
"At least you weren't bored." John spat, "God Sherlock you were on the ground, b-bleeding everywhere! I f-felt your pulse."
John pushed the heels of his palms up into his eyes.
"Gods Sherlock there was so much blood..."
"But I didn't die." Sherlock reminded him softly.
John pulled his face out of his hands and glared at Sherlock with more hate than the detective thought the doctor capable of.
"I wish you had." He hissed.
And just like that the heart Sherlock Holmes had kept locked away, safely behind a wall of indifference, smashed into a thousand pieces.
No, smashed wasn't the right word. Smashed implied the pieces could be put back together again, it was more like his heart was being crushed. It would of hurt less if John had physically ripped his chest cavity open.
To his surprise he felt his eyes burn as tears began to well up within them. He barely even registered that he had turned around and run out the door, he practically flew down the stairs and out onto the street. All he could see was John's eyes, full of hatred, the image was burned into his brain.
He ignored the strange looks people gave him as he ran through the streets, he must of looked a wreak. He didn't care. He didn't even know where he was running to, just that he couldn't stop yet.
Finally he couldn't ignore the burning in his legs any longer and he skidded to a halt in a small alley, far away from Baker street. He pressed his hands into his eyes, willing the tears to stop.
He was Sherlock Holmes! He did not cry!
He tried to breath deeply but his breath shuddered every time he tried. Eventually he gave up and curled up against the wall, sitting on the ground and let the tears fall.
John hated him.
More than that he wished he was dead.
Sherlock dug his fingers into his curls and pulled. He was such a fool! What? Did he actually expect John to forgive him? To actually want him?
'Nobody wants you. Nobody ever has and nobody ever will.' Sherlock's thoughts jabbed at him cruelly.
It was true. His father had hated him, his mother thought him a freak until her dying day. Mycroft cared for him only out of some brotherly responsibility, he tolerated Sherlock he didn't love him. Lestrade liked him because he solved crimes, Ms. Hudson always complained about him, she was probably glad he was gone. Molly only helped because of her infatuation with him, she didn't even really want him, she loved the idea of him. The mysterious detective with the cheekbones and dark coat.
He'd never had a friend in his life. He'd long ago accepted that Sherlock Holmes simply wasn't cut out for friends.
But then came John.
Oh they bickered occasionally but John had accepted him. He'd wanted Sherlock. He'd stayed up waiting for him when he took a late case, he bandaged Sherlock's wounds when he got hurt, he made him eat and rest. All because he cared about him.
At least he had.
Three years of suffering and loneliness.
Sherlock sobbed silently in the alley.
It had all been for nothing.
No that wasn't true. He still preferred this reality to the one where his friends were dead. Even if they didn't consider him a friend, he thought of them that way. He was glad they were alive, even if John hated him.
Sherlock suddenly became aware of how tired he was. The last 48 hours had been hectic. Hunting down Moran, finally ending things, then riding the adrenaline high all the way back to London. His excitement over seeing John again had made it impossible to eat let alone rest. Now with all this emotional upheaval the exhaustion had finally caught up to him.
Normally his pride would never allow him to fall asleep in an alley but then again normally his pride would of stopped him from curling up in a ball and crying like a child. He slumped against the wall, eventually tipping and ending up on his side laying on the cold ground. He stared straight ahead at nothing, he couldn't focus his brain to save his life.
He knew that he was in a weakened state, no rest or food for days on end plus his numerous injuries from the past three years had weakened his body. Laying here, in an alley on a cold London night would not be good for him. But he didn't care.
Nothing mattered anymore.
-oOo-
As soon as the words had left his lips he regretted them. Of course he didn't wish Sherlock dead, he'd been praying the exact opposite for three years! He'd let his anger and bitterness get to him and then he'd taken it out on Sherlock.
For just a moment, he'd wanted Sherlock to feel all the pain and suffering he'd been feeling these last few years, oblivious to the fact that he already had.
John felt something in him break when he saw tears shining on Sherlock's eyes. The grey orbs that were usually so calm and collected were shining filled with nothing but utter betrayal. The doctor had never felt to wrenched in his life.
And then in a blink Sherlock was gone, out the door down the stairs and onto the street.
"Sherlock!" John yelled after him, thundering down the stairs, "Sherlock, wait! I didn't mean it!"
By the time he'd reached the street Sherlock was gone, most likely hadn't heard John yelling after him. John ran anyway, praying he was going in the right direction but he had no way of knowing. His limp was entirely forgotten, his cane had been left inside the flat but he didn't notice. He didn't care.
He had to find Sherlock before he did something stupid.
'Idiot! He was back in your life for all of ten minutes and you chase him away!'
Sherlock didn't handle emotions well, he could react in any way it was impossible to predict. He could become cold as stone or he could become a sobbing mess. John had no way of knowing. Either way he just had to find him!
"Sherlock!" he bellowed, not caring about how daft he looked, "Sherlock, please! Please come back! I didn't mean it!"
'If anything happens to him it's your fault.'
He looked everywhere, every alley he passed by, every shop and he double checked every face he went by. He checked all of Sherlock usual spots, Angelo's, the Chinese place they went to sometimes, Barts Hospital. He even tried calling Mycroft but the call rang out. He started pleading with CCTV cameras after that but it didn't help.
Sherlock had just disappeared.
Now John feared it might be for good.
Angst and more angst!
As a side note, my friend runs a tumblr blog for fanfiction, story and author reviews, rec lists and stuff like that as well as gifset stories and art. But she had no followers so I promised her I'd do a little advertising for her.
She had 3 rec lists already and another 2 in the works. She even says that she will take review requests if you want your stories or art to get a little more attention once she has more followers.
: / / goddess sherlock recs . tumblr
Just take out the spaces