Chapter 15
"John, there is no point in me changing my behaviour now; this condition was set the moment I was conceived. If I wanted to help myself, I should have or rather, would have, done so decades ago. The latest visit to the doctor's calculated that it will only be a short time, perhaps several months at best. You were there at the visit, you heard him say it." Sherlock retorted softer than before, remembering the sun hasn't risen yet.
How painfully true Sherlock's words were to John, but he could not and would not accept this behaviour from his best mate. Regardless of having the power to change Sherlock's condition or not, John made his determination on Sherlock's health. If nothing else, food gives nutrients to the body which is essential to live.
"Riding a wave and suddenly getting pulled under with no way to surface...", Sherlock's mind was trapped in a loop at that thought. "There was no way out. Wrong! There has to be. This can't be happening to me. Despite what the doctors and lab results say, it is WRONG!"
John was aware of the psychological reasoning of patients with terminal illnesses. Denial was the first stage, refusing to believe the situation is permanent no matter how much evidence is provided. It was a mandatory psychology course taken in his early years training for the profession, after all it was people he would be dealing with. Doctors has to understand both mental and physical aspects of the human brain since the two parts relied on each other. Sherlock's condition was not terminal, but it was a drastic change in lifestyle for one who relied heavily on sight especially for The Work. John could only guess what Sherlock must have been feeling when the reality of the situation came crashing down on the detective, literally.
The last rays of sunlight came seeping through the curtains casting shades of deep red and orange on the furniture in the sitting room. Sherlock was once again in deep thought trying to find the missing link for their latest multiple murder case, he didn't realise his carelessness of tossing papers and photographs all across the floor and furniture had set a hazardous situation for him. Soon the night sky would be laced with sparkling stars and the bright blue moon, even with that kind of light it just didn't even come close to the power sunlight had. He looked up from studying the photograph and glanced out the window, night had fallen. London glistened like the sun amongst the darkness.
Sentimental aspects were never a large part in Sherlock's mind, but somehow the stars were slightly less sparkling than the previous night he thought. He was never keen to know much about the solar system deeming it as irrelevant; however, Sherlock found himself humbled by the natural world especially since he understood basics of science regarding astronomy rather than just feel drawn to stars in their ability to decorating the night sky. The sheer power in each star was outstanding, something humans always felt a longing to explore, the mystical land of the galaxy and beyond.
Returning his thoughts to earth, Sherlock wanted to solve the case before the sun rose. He made his way across the dimly lit room by moonlight to flip the lights on, but just before he reached the wall he lost his balance sliding on a photograph. Flailing his arms wildly trying to right himself only caused more trouble as his arm knocked into the table sending his flesh-eating bacterium experiment residing on a dinner plate flying across the room toppling a stack of old case files. Sherlock screeched in pain as his body came crashing down on a lump of chemistry books thrown in a pile next to his chair. Biting his tongue stopping the choice words from coming out, he heard John throw his duvet aside and head down the stairs mumbling something about dangerous experiments and blowing up the flat AGAIN...
What a mess the flat is now, what will John say about it? He always complaining about feeling like a mum, doing house work keeping the place as decent as possible. What will he think of me, here lying atop a stack of book in the middle of what I can only imagine as the after effects of a tornado. I can just hear him now in that scornful voice saying "I told you so Sherlock! Why won't you ever listen to me...?" Actually I do listen to you John, just not all the time unless you're life is in danger then I always do.
A-N: Yea! This and In Their World updated in the same day. Even thought his story does have a sad mood, it won't always be angst and tears. Promise. I like happy too.
Tell me what you think of this? Ta!