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"Three-quarters of the sickness of intelligent people come from their intelligence. They need at least a doctor who can understand this sickness." Marcel Proust
….
"Sherlock I just want to see it" John laughed figuring Sherlock's reaction was just him being his stubborn self when it came to getting medical assistance. He thought fondly back to his friends row with the 'shock blanket'. John reached out again to grab his friends arm but he just flinched away more violently this time.
"I said don't" he reiterated sternly, getting to his feet; it was power play, he felt more in control from his higher vantage point. John put up his hands in surrender defusing the situation before Sherlock left.
"Ok ok…I just want to see how badly your hurt."
"I'm fine" Sherlock said leaving no room for argument in his tone.
"You're bleeding" John countered calmly.
"Yes and I'm fine."
"No you're bleeding."
"Thank you for that observation doctor." They both stared at each other for a long moment, trying to read the other. This was bizarre even for Sherlock. John was suddenly aware of the fact that he had actually never seen his friend's bear arms, it wasn't the sort of thing you ever really think about until its dragged right out to your attention. Maybe he had seen his friend just pull down his sleeve from across the room, covering those damn nicotine patches but he had never actually seen them completely exposed for longer than a brief second from a distance. John could feel his stomach clench painfully in response to this.
"Sherlock…if you have any…old track marks or, or new ones" He felt dread at this possibility, "Its ok, I already kind of know about the drugs remember." Sherlock laughs at this and it's devoid of all humor, but sharp and snide, yet John can't help but feel the degrading gesture isn't directed at him. This just makes him more nervous.
"So if it's not that then, why…" John starts confused as he often is when it comes to Sherlock.
"People ask questions they don't won't the answers too, as stupid and dull as they are, they still are curious. So they ask questions, but aren't happy when they get a less than pleasant answer."
"It's the unpleasant answers that are the ones we need to know most…especially when its concerning the people we care about." Sherlock scoffed at this until he looked over at John and saw he was serious.
"Please Sherlock, I'm not just asking out of curiosity or whatever the hell you think I am, I want to know" I want to help but he didn't dare say that out loud knowing Sherlock would just deny he needed any.
Sherlock stared at him with his icy blue orbs then hesitantly offered the other man his arm. His gaze became hard hiding his earlier apprehension and fear, John knew he was already shutting down putting up his walls. He couldn't delay this any further; he reached out tentatively, he felt his stomach rocking back and forth. The doctor took a breath to steady himself and as confidently as he could appear unbuttoned the cuff of Sherlock's sleeve. He gently began to roll up the sleeve…before he even got to the actual bleeding ones he saw them. Dozens of them. He tried to swallow the gasp climbing up his throat. Cuts and scars all in different stages of healing. They were thin white ones that snaked through almost unnoticed by the thicker raised ones. Some purple some still a crusted dahlia red some just beginning to scab. They ran up and down the entire length of his long pale forearm like a secret map of the darkest places in his mind and heart. The places he tortured himself and never let anyone see. It was completed by the small round scars of track marks and burns although those were scarcer. Straight rigid methodical lines, so precise as if he wouldn't let himself believe it was anything more than logical. Dozens of cracks, in whites, and red's and purples. No one ever saw the cracks but there they were. John's trembling fingers hovered over the scribed memories, not afraid of them but afraid of Sherlock's reaction to him touching them. The detective finally looked over at John analyzing his reaction with practiced and feigned indifference.
"Oh Sherlock" John whispered his voice thick
"I don't need your pity or judgment doctor Watson" Sherlock spat and pulled his arm back quickly.
"No…No Sherlock, it's not pity ok, or judgment for that matter. I would never pity or judge you"
"Then what is it"
"It's…sadness and concern."
"Why?" He asked his voice unreadable. John just looked at him with that same mixture of sadness and concern but also shock now. Did he really not get it?
"I'm sad that you feel you have to do this to yourself, I'm sad because you don't deserve this. And I'm concerned because this is dangerous."
"How do you know what I deserve? And it's not if you know what you're doing." Sherlock countered. John knew he was getting nowhere and needed to switch gears.
"Why?" Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, and John tried not to get angry; how could he be so casual about the whole thing.
"This body is just transport, it doesn't matter what I do to it. What I need to preserve is my mind. Sometimes it gets clouded and distracted by petty things…"
"You mean emotions and feeling" John clarified exasperated but Sherlock kept going
"So I need…a release, a way to sort and dispose of the things that I don't have the time to understand. I cut it out of me sort to speak" He chuckled at his morbid joke, and John felt his frustration give back to sadness. He was worth so much more than this, he didn't deserve this.
"It's also serves as a good reminder not to make stupid mistakes on a case. Sometimes it's helpful when I'm bored and my mind is tearing itself apart; the endorphin rush does a wonder on boredom. I suppose it's multifunctional; It's is very helpful and serves many purposes." John could feel his blood run cold.
"It's just another addiction"
"It is not an addiction" Sherlock stated sternly.
"It's just like the drugs"
"It's easier to hide" he had a sort of joyless sarcastic smile on his face, his lip quivered, the only sign of a cracking mask.
"Sherlock" John began walking closer to his friend. He shivered from the chill in the night air and the gravity of their conversation "There are other things to protect than just your mind…like your heart and your wellbeing. You don't deserve this and one day I swear to you, you will believe it."
"I won't judge you, but I would like if you stopped. If not for yourself yet then for me."
"John I don't think…" Sherlock began looking down ashamed.
"I'll help you I'll do whatever it takes" John shrugged his shoulder telling him it didn't matter what the price was he would help, "please... for your friend."
Sherlock hesitantly nodded his head, and shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the chilly night air. John smiled sadly and handed him his coat anyway.
"Come on I need to clean those wounds, they probably reopened when you were squeezing your arm."
"John why… why aren't you disgusted by them, why haven't you run away yet?" Sherlock tried to ask clinically. John could feel his chest ach, how could the people in Sherlock's life have failed him so badly.
"I could never be disgusted by you, and I will never leave" John said seriously his eyes locking with the taller man's "Besides if body parts in the fridge haven't scared me off nothing will, and where else would I find a brilliant pain in the arse to spend my time with." John laughed his throaty giggle.
"I have heard we are a rare commodity" Sherlock grinned.
Yes you are John smiled to himself yes you are.
No, he would never leave his best friend; he was going to help him. Although he had learned more about the man tonight than he could have imagined, learned things he didn't want to imagine, he knew there was still more to the man that he had yet to learn. So much more than anyone knew or gave him credit for. Sherlock Holmes was not just a great mind but a great heart. And he deserved so much better, and John was going to see to it that he got it….although it wouldn't be easy….
….
Sorry for the late post, I'm quite sick at the moment and have a fever so I hope this is believable and makes sense haha. I hope this didn't disappoint. Thanks again for reading and reviewing, please let me know what you think.