Chapter 16

Sherlock stood up keeping the heel of his foot resting against pile of books, and ignoring the pain from the fall. Thinking he didn't have any dignity left in the situation decided just waited for John to entre the room. Stepping off the last step John still screaming warnings and threats at his unruly flat mate anxious to know the extend of damage the genius had inflicted on the room, "Sherlock Holmes! What in the world have you done this time? How many times have I said NOT to conduct dangerous or explosive experiments at the flat?" With Sherlock some things just never made it to the brain, as the expression ran "in one ear and out the other", he automatically filtered out John's hysterics and instead went to his mind palace- a place where he truly felt comforted no matter the circumstances.

John's voice slowly died down like a ticking clock running out of battery life, "You're not even...listening...to...me..." Sherlock opened his eyes and saw a faint silhouette of his flatmate standing the door way gaping at the shape the sitting room had turned into. After straightening his jacket, he attempted to describe why the room looked like the masterpiece of a tornado, carefully avoiding any mention of lighting issues, "I see you've noticed the room. Never mind the mess, I'm working on a case. The papers will be gone when I'm finished. Besides, I think there are more important matters to concern yourself with John. No doubt you woke Mrs. Hudson with the awful screeching at the top of your voice from the highest floor, mind you. It wouldn't surprise me if she came right up here now angry for waking her again."

"Sherlock", John said softly and slowly, "Mrs. Hudson is here standing off at my side." He made no response, but at once Sherlock's expression flinched ever so slightly searching for Mrs. Hudson's silhouette. John continued, "Actually it wasn't my fault, just so you know. Not everything is my fault. If something goes wrong, don't always blame me. Ok?" A curt nod was all John managed out of Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson bid the two goodnight and excused herself realising Sherlock was in the capable hand of the doctor. John would help Sherlock, he always did.

Once Mrs. Hudson returned to her flat, John strode over in one fluid movement to turn on the light emanated from the room so brightly Sherlock's eyes felt as if they were looking into the centre of the sun, burning with pain.

"Turn it off John!" he bellowed whilst bring up a hand to shield his face.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. Here, follow me to your seat. Just sit here and I'll make a quick cuppa then we can talk." John guided a reluctant consulting detective to his chair and left him to be. It certainly wasn't going to be an easy discussion, and any sort of discussion with Sherlock was always hard. He felt so powerless against everything. Doctor's were suppose to help and heal...

After pressing a steaming cup into his flatmate's hand John took a seat and heaved a sigh.

"Sherlock, we have to talk about it. I know you don't like it, and frankly I don't either, but we can't put it off any longer," John began.

"No John. There is nothing to discuss. We both know what it going to happen to me. I. Am. Going. Blind! I know there is Nothing I can do about it, therefore Nothing for us to discuss!" Sherlock finished comment with a sip of tea.

John was undeterred despite the overall mood of the conversation, "That's the point Sherlock, we know what to expect so that way we can prepare for it. Don't write yourself off as hopeless. You're not Sherlock. Not one bit. Like tonight for instance, care to elaborate on what happened? To make sure it won't happen again. I promise to help you Sherlock. Always."

"You're in denial John. Don't scoff at me. You know I'm right," Sherlock dead-panned. "You refuse to accept the facts. Just leave me! I don't want your help. Why do you bother with all of this?" Sherlock gestured to himself and the mess in the room. "Can't you figure it out yourself?! Unlike me, YOU have eyes, YOU can see perfectly. You tell me, better get use to it because you'll doing it a lot if you say you'll not leave me." Sherlock finished his outburst and curled up in the chair burying his head like an ostrich immediately regretting his words.

He hadn't meant to shout at John, it just slipped out of the cracks in his emotional barrier. He truthfully wanted his flatmate to stay, but staying would only make matters worse for them both. He didn't want John to live his life for him. He had his own life to live with Mary, soon the two would marry. Don't put off what can be done today for tomorrow. John would have to go. Mycroft would help John find a new place and make any arrangements necessary, he would hound his brother dearest until he was satisfied with the new situation John would be in. Making him leave was Sherlock's was of showing he cared. End of discussion. John would have to go by the end of the week.

I'm helping you John, so you're leaving. It's for the best.

Mildly stunned and stabbed to the heart with the words he heard John sipped his tea contemplating how best to respond. Whether Sherlock believed it or not he was the one in denial, not John. Some time had passed since the initial diagnosis, but time did not matter in cases like these. Sentimental or pessimistic thoughts and angry outbursts were not limited to a set number or weeks or months. Anger carried on through all five stages. Denial was considered the hardest emotion to get past. After Denial came Anger and Bargaining, "What if I did it didn't do this then...If only I could ...Just one more chance I would...I would give anything to..." These perhaps were the saddest words known to humans after "Why?!"

Heaving a sad sigh he squeezed His flatmates hand gently. "Sherlock. Please don't do this. I know this is very difficult adjusting. I knew what happened the moment I stepped into the doorway. I am so very sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop this. Sherlock, please don't shut me out. I want to help you." John continued softly reassuring Sherlock he would never leave, and would always be there to help him. To never let him fall again.

"I'm fine John. Not even a scratch. Don't get emotional, it doesn't suit you well. It was just a fall, I've had worse." Sherlock stated plainly as he started collecting the papers scattering the floor. "I appreciate the concern, but it is not needed. I must manage on my own whilst I still have some sight left. You won't be here at my side every waking moment. Go back to bed. I'm more than capable of cleaning up the flat now that it is properly illuminated."

John tried to suppress a laugh, but failed. "You? Capable of cleaning a flat all by yourself? Highly doubtful as you can't be bothered with keep anything nice and orderly, except for your suits and dress shirts. John commented fining a hand toward Sherlock's wrinkle free jacket. "I can't sleep now. I'm staying, I want to see you clean the flat. This will be interesting."

A-N: I wasn't aware until someone pointed it out, but apparently it wasn't letting readers write a review for the previous chapter. I don't know why. I hope it works now.
My courses started at the Uni this week so my schedule will become busy again.

Additionally, I attended a memorial service of a good friend from Wales. It was a lot of mixed feelings. My mum works works for the family's company so it's been not the smoothest of rides these past few days. I didn't get a chance to write much for "This is Their World".

TBC