John's P.O.V.
I sat there, staring at wall, completely bored. I knew it was a good thing I hadn't gone, I would only get in the way. But part of me couldn't help, but think about that look on Sherlock's face when I told him I shouldn't solve cases with him. It reminded me of the look a baby got when you took away their bottle or toy. Rejected, alone, scared, sad. These were all things that described what I had seen on his face. And it hurt. It hurt to do that to him, but it was necessary he stayed away from me.
I rolled down the hall opening a door at the end. I scavenged around it a little bit before I felt the familiar feel of steel. It was loaded with three bullets and was only for emergencies. What I needed it for most defiantly qualified as one.
I turned on the radio, a grim smile spreading across my face. Never has a song fit so well. Leaning back some, I put the gun to my head, and returned to the ship...
"I knew you couldn't resist the temptation." Sherlock chuckled.
It was just as I remembered it. The swaying ship, the giant waves, the dead body. He was still holding a gun to his head and I held one to mine. Secretly I knew this could only end one way, and no one would like the result. The music faded in and out, not entirely clear until I years the chorus.
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
La, la, la, la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
"Come on. You know you want to do this. You don't want to hurt Sherlock anymore than you already have. Just one little pull and this'll all be over. Do it. I know you have what it takes." Sherlock whispered.
I shook my head. "No. This isn't what he wants. He needs me."
"That's what he says. He's only trying to make you feel good. He's a sociopath remember? He doesn't care about anyone or feel anything. He'll be happy when you're gone." he hissed.
"No, that can't be true. He cares. I know he does." my heart racing. "He's my best friend."
"No he doesn't. He doesn't care. He wants you dead. He doesn't want to be around a man who can't walk. He could care less if you live. He hates you!" the voices pounced on me, attacking like a pack of wolves.
I screamed in terror as actual wolves started running towards me, snarling. The voices, the wolves, the temptation, it was all to much. I fell to my knees as they all piled on me, one by one. I heard another voice, one I once thought I could trust. But as the betrayed me once more, I knew I couldn't.
"You're worthless! You're useless! You're nobody! You're the reason I'm in this bloody situation. I'm hope you're happy, you piece of filth."
I looked up to see Sherlock smirking, and with a final kick, I knew that everything he said was true. And so I pulled the trigger.
BANG!
And the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Sherlock's P.O.V.
I was heading back to John's house mainly because I had forgotten to grab my coat. I was three houses away when I heard the gun shot. Knowing it couldn't have came from anywhere else I ran as fast as I possibly could, my brain screaming to hurry up and get there.
I stormed in the door and wasn't sure to be surprised or scared as I entered the living room. When I got there, I stopped. My heart skipped a few beats as I all I could do was collapse, tears streaming down my face...
Well? What did you think? Hope you enjoyed and please review!
Best Rega...
Sherlock: Hold on! Aren't you forgetting something?
Me: Huh?
Sherlock: The song?
Me: Oh yeah! I don't own the song Whisky Lullaby! All rights go to Brad Paisely.
Best Regards,
PFT221B