Please tell me if you want me to continue.
"Why didn't you just move in with me?" Harry asked irritated.
"I found a new place. I'll move out within this week."
"I can't believe you remained with that freak for so long." Harry hissed throwing a pathetic look at her brother, "and let him use you some more."
John remained silent.
"You're so naive when it comes to matters of the heart brother, you fall for everyone who uses you."
"Quite the contrary, people I love end up using me. Like you."
Harry couldn't believe her ears, here was her brother hurt, broken, used by his love and flatmate and he was accusing her?
"You know I love you and no matter what you do I'll forgive you, so you break your promise of controlling your alcohol consumption and expect to be forgiven, you skip your appointments with Sarah and want me to forgive you, you use me when you lie to me about your drinking." John looked up at a dumbstruck Harry, "You use me, my love for you on each and every occasion." After a few moments John left.
Harry sat there for a long time as realisation struck her, there was not much difference between her and Sherlock, she too hurt her brother because he loved her. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she whispered the words "Sorry Johnny."
John got home late that night after visiting Harry and taking a walk. Sherlock was home. John went directly upstairs. As he changed and washed up he remembered his conversation with Sarah the day before.
"Have you told him?" asked Sarah in her chamber; she didn't have many patients that day.
"I think he knows." Obviously he has checked which sites I visited on the laptop, the papers were marked. He was after all the most observant man in the world.
"Didn't he say anything?" Asked Sarah, hesitation and sympathy in her voice.
"No." He doesn't take notice of discarded things.
"Maybe you should talk to him for one last time, don't leave anything unresolved. You two have spent a long time together; it'll seem out of place if you just leave. "
John consented.
John thought about talking to Sherlock one last time. This was Thursday night, he would move out on Saturday. Maybe Sherlock would be out on a case and they would not get the opportunity to say formal good byes. A formality, that's what is left of us, thought John as he descended the stairs toward the living room. He took a deep breath and gathered some courage to face his angry, sarcastic flatmate.
The moment he opened the door he wished he hadn't.
Sherlock was standing between the TV and the sofa, Irene Adler in his arms. His hair was messed, cloths rumpled, breathing heavy, the excitement still in his eyes. One of his hands was around Irene's waist and the other was inside her red silk shirt of which the buttons were undone. Their lips said they were kissing. The couple was looking at him, startled, awkward. John had intruded in a very intense love making scene including the man he loved.
John felt a bout of nausea, extreme panic and vertigo at once. His feet were refusing to support his weight. Blood was surging through him, something cold was moving along his spine. Where was he? 221B Baker Street? or the battle field? A bullet had just missed him by inches, and as he looked back to find what it had hit he found his mate lying beside him. He tried very hard to keep firing and give attention to his dying mate. In a moment of cease fire his dying mate held his hand and said "We all die John, some in battlefield, some in life's field." Yes, he was right. John was dying, this scene in front of him had hit him like a bullet, he was in battle for long, he was wounded already, this was the final stroke. Through blurred vision he saw Sherlock running towards him and holding him. The last vision he had was Sherlock shaking him with both hands calling his name.
"You didn't tell me you two were in a relationship finally." Asked Irene, looking at Sherlock who was bending over John's limp unconscious body in his arms.
Sherlock looked up shocked. Sherlock knew he was panicking he tried very hard to stay calm. I should have talked to him after our spat. Please be alright John, this was not intended.
"Well it's about time." Said Irene nonchalantly. Waving a piece of paper in front of Sherlock she said "Nice try, better luck next time." With that she was gone.
Sherlock tried very hard to bring back his mental equilibrium. John is in shock, he has fainted. He would come around soon. He told himself and took John up in his arms and took him to the living room. He put him on the sofa and started to bring him about. He wet a kitchen towel and put it on John's forehead pressing lightly. He was hovering over John.
The look on John's face when he saw us! He looked like he was under fire. What might he have thought? That I was in love with her? Oh john you know me better than that. She was hiding that crucial information about arms dealing. I had to do it. It's not something I was enjoying. If I enjoyed such things it would be with you. This is all because of your stupid feelings, if you were the same John I knew you would have taken the situation lightly, as a part of the job which it was. Now I have to explain to you what I was doing and why. This is ridiculous John. If I ever felt love it would be for you. You make me work John.
What am I thinking? Is this the shock speaking?
He remembered after their last conversation which was more of a confrontation how he couldn't concentrate on the case at hand.
"Missing your flatmate freak?" Donovan had asked. Sherlock ignored. His mind was already messed enough.
"Why didn't he come? Very unlikely of him." Asked Lestrade.
"He's sick." With emotions.
"About time, living so long with you." Spat Donovan.
Sherlock looked daggers. He remembered how John would already have had said something to that if he was here.
When the job was done, there was no John to say "Brilliant".
Sherlock felt empty and angry. This is what he does best. This is what he has devoted his life to. This is what he understands. John ought to understand this. They were so good together. Why did he have to go ahead and mess things with emotions? He was the only person on earth who understood Sherlock, so why didn't he understand what Sherlock wanted now? If only Sherlock could take that thing called love out of John's dictionary. He didn't feel like returning the next day. He was thinking about how to make John see reason. He spent the whole day walking about London, talking to his homeless network, observing people. That night he found out that John was planning to move out. It was a jolt to Sherlock. Why would he leave me? Because we fought? That's the most absurd reason! He owes me an explanation. But he was too angry and egoistic to talk to John himself. So he waited. In the mean time he got the information about Irene. There was no other way to take that paper out of her.
John moved, moaning he opened his eyes. Sherlock took his pulse and checked his heartbeat. John let him do it. As full consciousness came back to John his heart beat rose with his blood pressure and anger and pain. Wasn't it enough Sherlock that I was leaving? I know I don't have the right to feel like this. But I do. And God it kills me.
He couldn't look at Sherlock, he tried weakly to free himself.
"Try to relax." Sherlock commanded frowning.
"I'm sorry I interrupted you." John said not looking at his flatmate, breathing hard. As he tried to get up he realised he was pinned down by Sherlock's weight.
"It's not what you think John." Sherlock said deeply.
"I've stopped thinking about you."
"Is that why you fainted?"
John looked daggers at his flatmate who was still on top of him refusing to let go.
"Let me go."
"No." Sherlock said coldly with finality.
John let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to cool himself. He did come to talk to Sherlock. Now was the chance.
"I am leaving Sherlock."
"Not today."
"I didn't plan it today, but I can't stay here anymore. I'll go to Harry's and move from there this Saturday."
"John" the baritone deep but hesitant, "I'm sorry about the last few days, the confrontations." There you have it John, now please smile and call me a git and sod this whole stupid idea.
John was taken aback by the apology, firstly because Sherlock never apologised and then because Sherlock thought that an apology could change anything now.
"I can't do this anymore Sherlock. I'm fine now, please let me go."
Sherlock was getting impatient. He wanted to shake John unconscious again. Why doesn't he see how illogical it would be for him to live somewhere else? He is pushing me to do something I really don't want to do.
"What's the point of it John? What will you do without me?" Sherlock asked without hiding his irritation.
Try to forget you. "Move on."
His words had some effect on Sherlock; he loosened his grip on John and sat up a bit. His expression shocked, disbelieving, enquiring. What? Move on where? With whom? How? If I was not there? You can't just move from me John, you never have. Sherlock had too many questions without any satisfying answer and the only person who could clearly answer these was going away.
John sat up, feeling very weak. Taking himself out of Sherlock's loosened grasp he stood up. Before walking to the door he turned to his flatmate who sat like a statue in the same position as before as if John was still lying there and asked,
"Did you do this because I'm a man?"
Sherlock looked up with a sad smile, "I thought you knew me better than that John."
Turning away John said, "Yes, I too thought I did." The door closed behind him.
This was not the first time Sherlock was left alone, but this was the first time he felt lonely. After a while he stood up determined.
Last try.
He went up to John's room. The door was opened, John was packing things swiftly, he wanted to get out, hide, and forget.
He had packed many things over the week for his move on the weekend, so he had very little difficulty to pack the rest which was not much. That will do for two days, on Saturday I'll have to come for the rest. He zipped the bag which was on the reached for the phone on side table not aware of Sherlock in the room. Two long hands snaked his waist and chest from behind flattening him on a warm lean chest. He was taken aback at first then angry, sad, frustrated all at once. He couldn't hold back the emotions anymore. He broke down crying in those arms. He's still faking it. Sherlock put his mouth close to John's ears and whispered "Don't leave, John." But it was too late.
Flashes of the last few days when he was happy flashed through John's mind.
Sherlock coking for me. A lie.
Sherlock caring for me. A lie.
Sherlock holding my hand. A lie.
"Because I want to. Because I care". A lie.
Our first kiss. A lie.
Now was time for some truths.
John pushed Sherlock with all the force he could muster. Sherlock didn't expect it from a weeping John. He staggered back and hit the wall behind him hard, losing his balance he fell. He looked at John with surprised horrified eyes. John stood in front of him, hands fisted, wet eyes fierce, body trembling with anger. John looked like a villain.
What have I done, Sherlock thought.
"Your experiment has failed Mr Holmes. Don't you dare try to resume it on my expense." John's voice was menacing.
"Don't leave John" Sherlock couldn't recognise his own voice.
"Enough!" Shouted John.
Telling John to calm down would do no good, Sherlock resolved to stay quiet and let the storm pass.
"You played with my emotions without thinking about the consequences, you faked loving me, you let me believe that you were capable of something as beautiful and as human as love."
Trying to control his breathing John continued.
"You lied continuously, you manipulated me, you exploited my trust in you, you tried to keep me from being loved of which you are totally incapable you bastard!"
Whatever Sherlock had done till now seemed completely logical to him, somehow now when he was given the story from John's point of view, reality hit him. He couldn't take it. He was wincing every time John shouted. Because John was shouting truths. As soon as they were spoken words from John's mouth Sherlock's delusions of reasoning fell apart. He felt guilty.
"You don't deserve me Sherlock. In fact you don't deserve anybody at all, you can't deduce with that great brain of yours why some people choose to be with you when the rest of the world runs away from you."
"John I didn't mean…"
"Shut up!" Sherlock fell silent, there was an unfamiliar feeling growing in his heart and head, it was nauseating, aching.
"I was never adorable to you, I was useful. Now that I've ceased to be so, I'm out."
John took his coat and two bags; he wiped his face with his hands and gave Sherlock a final look of contempt and disgust.
"I curse the day I met you Sherlock Holmes. I curse the day I thought you were human."
Sherlock sat there for how long he didn't know.
Until a man in a long coat and carrying an umbrella came to him and said,
"Get up Sherlock. You've been sitting here for the last 24 hours."