Chapter 8 – Keep Me Sane

Possibly one of the worst parts of living alone after becoming so used to John's constant presence was the necessity of doing my own food shopping. Quite a torturous and mundane thing required for human survival, but seeing as it was an absolute requirement and Mrs. Hudson kept on in her insistent declaration that she was indeed not my housekeeper, I found myself in Tesco, picking up a few things on my way home from Scotland Yard Wednesday.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, indicating a text.

Arrested the brother. Confessed to everything in 2 minutes. –GL

I smiled, satisfied I was correct and didn't bother with a reply, returning my attention to the selection of tea instead when I heard a familiar laugh from the next aisle over.

Victoria?

But she wasn't alone. Unmistakably, I heard a very male voice along with hers. Distinct Northern England accent. Perhaps too curious for my own good, I went to the end of the aisle and peeked around a display, acting as though I was reading the label on a tin of soup, while I studied Victoria and her male companion as they teasingly argued over the choice of which crisps to purchase.

Equivalent to Victoria in age. Tall. My height or slightly more. Athletic build. Football? Rugby? Casually dressed yet in designer label clothing. Well-spoken. Educated. Well-groomed.

He pulled out his mobile, the latest high-end smartphone, reading a message, typed in a response, and tucked it away again.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"An emergency board meeting tomorrow morning. My secretary had to rearrange my morning schedule. Nothing out of the ordinary." He smiled a too-perfect smile, showing too-perfect teeth.

Hm. Board meetings. Secretary. Successful businessman.

They finally picked two bags of crisps off the shelf and headed in my direction. I caught a glimpse of a bottle of wine among a few other grocery items in the basket the mystery man carried before I ducked away in the next aisle, escaping to the far end and avoiding them altogether, trying to make sense of what I'd seen.

She agreed to date me exclusively. It was supposed to be just the two of us. No one else should be in the equation.

Sherlock and Victoria.

Slowly, I made my way through Tesco, finding the few items I couldn't leave without and wandered to the registers, catching eye of them entering a cab as I paid. He held the door for her. He held the door like a gentleman. Or like a boyfriend.

I grabbed my bags and determined I would walk back to 221B, a scowl the fixed expression on my face, and a dark cloud of misery and doubt looming over my head.

"Sherlock, dear, are you alright," Mrs. Hudson questioned upon sight of me as I returned.

I didn't reply, storming up the stairs, throwing the door open quite forcefully, and proceeded to place the groceries in their respective spots with such a fury, if they were living beings, they would surely be traumatized by my actions.

It should have come as no surprise that Mrs. Hudson stood in the living room silently watching me, though I said nothing at first, stiffly walking to my chair and sinking into it with a deep sigh.

"If you're going to pry into my personal affairs, then could you at least make yourself useful and prepare us some tea before you begin questioning me regarding what it is that's on my mind, Mrs. Hudson?"

She gave a small huff before heading toward the kitchen. "I'll let it slide this once since you're in such a tizzy, but you remember, dear, I'm not your housekeeper. Don't you be making a habit of this just because John's not here no more."

John.

I need you at Baker Street immediately. –SH

His reply was nearly instantaneous.

"Emergency" related? –JW

Yes. –SH

I thought you didn't want me calling her an emergency. ? –SH

I don't. SHE'S YOUR GIRLFRIEND. Be over later. At work still. –JW

Later? That wouldn't do at all. John didn't understand how much I needed him immediately. Later was too late. I'd go mad before he would arrive later.

She was with another man. I saw her. –SH

Be there in 20. –JW

"Mrs. Hudson, John is on his way. We'll need more tea."

He didn't arrive nearly soon enough to keep my thoughts from racing through all the possible scenarios, though the only one that wanted to stay in the forefront of my mind was the most painful. I'd allowed myself to feel. I'd given into sentiment. I'd let her close. I'd opened up to the possibility of love, and the result was exactly what I should have expected, exactly what I see in the world surrounding me. She drove a knife deep into my heart at the first opportunity. I let myself be weak, let her be a weakness, and she did what humans do. She took advantage of that.

I heard Mrs. Hudson greeting him and excusing herself, then the door closed, and I looked up at my best friend for a moment before dropping my head back on the armrest. "This was all a terrible mistake. I don't know what I was thinking, John. I'm not meant to be loved. I'm not that person." Pulling my knees to my chest, curling into a ball in my chair, I tried to make myself as small as I felt, and hid inside the safety of my coat. "I'm not you, John."

"What the bloody hell was she doing with this bloke that you're acting as if it's the end of the world?" He plopped down in his chair, but I didn't look at him again.

"She was …" Oh, it was so awful. I didn't want to say it. "They were standing close, close to the point of touching, and they were laughing with one another, John! And they were buying crisps and wine, shopping together!"

Silence fell, and I curled into a tighter ball. Sentiment was painful.

"That's it? They were laughing and shopping. Were they holding hands? Did they kiss or anything like that?"

I shook my head.

"Sherlock, you're clearly jealous, but I'm not quite sure what of exactly."

Jealous? Am I jealous? I didn't like seeing her with someone else, another man. It hurt, made me angry and saddened me. Yes. I supposed jealously aptly described my feelings. But of what? The scene played out before me again, an unwanted film seared inside my eyelids, and I opened them wide, jumped out of the chair to stand and glare down at John.

"She …" I took a deep breath, my voice deathly low. "Victoria was so intimately domestic with him, but he is not me. I should be the one doing those things." I swallowed hard. "I want to be the one doing those things." Sinking into my chair, I stared at him. "I just want to feel normal, John. Why can't I do that? I don't want to be like my brother. I want something ordinary in my life, something to keep me sane."

"You have me, Sherlock."

"I know, John."

That wasn't enough anymore. He had a wife and would soon have a child. I needed more. I needed someone who was mine. He used to be, before I faked my death, back when it was just the two of us against the world, but that's not how it was anymore.

I needed someone of my own, just as he did.

"But I want her too."

John nodded and stood, smiling as he patted my shoulder. "Then I suggest you talk to her and figure this out. That's what couples do. They talk, not just deduce each other or jump to conclusions, at least not if they want to remain a couple for long. Anyway, I should be going. Mary and I have dinner plans tonight."

"Hm. Go then. I'll be fine."

Once the door closed behind him, I slumped into my chair while playing with my phone, and debated if I should call or text Victoria … Or simply go over there.