Chapter 20
It had been some time after the "Larry-Curly-Moe" incident, but John was still mulling over the tense situation Sherlock was in when John found him in Battle of Wits with Larry. Well, it was mostly Sherlock's witty sarcastic deductions and Larry's unintelligent childish remarks. John didn't dare think about what might have happened if he found them only a moment later, after all a Battle of Wits came with high prices.
To the death! I accept!
Sherlock's Iocane-like immunity of poisonous substances was built up during his time dealing with so-called clever criminals, but everything had a limit. He only has so much in his bag of tricks before he became desperate and needed to pull things from thin air. He thrived in the adrenaline rush that came from cases and chases, but this was cutting too close to the safety line.
"How could Sherlock do that to himself or to me even? What was he thinking of in running off to catch a dangerous armed criminal with no forethought in his actions and no backup? Is that his way of suicide- going out on a dangerous task, never mind the obvious that it was in a dimly lit nearly-abandoned warehouse?! He wouldn't be that careless with his condition, would he? Was he even in the smallest degree concerned of what might have happened if the torch went out or if he didn't react fast enough when I called out to him?" John questioned himself as he lay in bed not focusing on the open medical book. It was his favourite pathology book filled with intricate diagrams and photos under the microscope. He often read it because it was oddly soothing for him to medical books, but his mind was racing on other more pressing thoughts than diseases.
I worry a great deal for him, even more so now than before. His condition is only getting progressively worse. I dread not knowing how he feels about his Work. How will he continue to work? Could he find a way to solve crimes without being able to see the body? I'm sure it's considerably more than 'a bit not good'. I wish he'd let me help him, keeping his distance from me isn't doing him any good. Sherlock refuses to talk to me. I'm not hurt by it, but I do wish he would not just keep his emotions suppressed. It won't help him in anyway, nor anyone else for that matter. He's going to explode when that day comes and I won't have a clue in how to help him. According to the one and only person to ever claim his brain might rot from not begin used in deducing people and murders, I worry what will happen to that wonderful brain. Will he turn mad? That would be terribly dreadful. I don't want that to happen at all, but it might if he won't talk to me. He eats and drinks only if I put something in his hand. He refuses to sleep a decent number of hours. The most it has been is about ten hours in this past week. He looks so poorly, soon it will be more than his eyesight that I will be concerned of if he doesn't change.
It hadn't been a very good day for him at all. First, Lestrade didn't have a case for him so that in itself was already a bad start. As he didn't have anything interesting to fill his precious brain, so had to settle with looking at specimens in his microscope or conducting strange experiments in the weirdest of places around the flat until he couldn't handle the pain from staring so much. By mid-afternoon the man was deep in his Mind Palace constantly filtering out John's pestering remarks to eat something. "Sherlock, it is just a scone. Could you eat it, you didn't eat anything in the morning?" "No, go away. I'm busy." was the only response the doctor received.
Now Sherlock was downstairs standing by the window playing one of his newest compositions. It was a soft and sombre minor melody because he was bored, reclusive, and depressed. Secretly that was his favourite one of Sherlock's compositions. Music was John's passion at one point, but medicine took over. It wasn't that he didn't like music any more; he just felt his talent was more suited to medicine than music…unlike Karl's. The music only brought on a depressing train of thought concerning his best mate's well-being.
It simply wasn't fair, but life never played fair. It was fact clearer that a piece of glass reflecting off a mirror. A lesson I learnt early on growing up. I remember my best mate in school, Karl, sat next to me in every class from primary to Year 9. We were both clarinettist always sitting first stand playing the solos. It was just the wrong time and the wrong place when everything changed. Karl was just standing there waiting for his little sister when a stray ball knocked him unconscious. He had a future as a performance majour. He and I both played well, but he was better I would ever be even if I worked twice as hard as he did. Contusion and coma never made a good mix. Upon finally waking up everything was different for him. His eyes were no longer focused; he no longer had strong fine motor skills. Yes, life wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything deserving of it. It was just the wrong time at the wrong place. Poor mate, he was a good friend...it's just the same with Sherlock. Karl didn't do anything to be struck, it just happened, likewise with Sherlock. Why bother asking "WHY?" It changes nothing. It wasn't Fate's calling or Destiny, simply just happened and that's called Chance.
As much as it is killing him inside facing this, so it is the same for me too. I am a doctor. My job is to help and heal, that is why I studied medicine. Sickness and disease rule with an iron hand over humans, especially doctors. We feel powerless in face of such tragedies. Medical Science is miraculous in some aspects, but sadly not in all. How I wish we could find cures to all the genetic confusions. A single misplaced "label" in the cell's DNA makes all the difference between two totally different ways of living long before a foetus is even formed. His condition isn't rare, but it isn't very common either. It's just one of those things that happen and people assume wrong more than half of the time, merely brushing it off as "oh that person is blind" and nothing more. It is an X-linked disorder most commonly affecting boys. The genetic mutation that causes the disease is found on the X chromosome, which men inherit from their mothers. Genetics, you're wonderful and fascinating to study, but at the same time you are so very evil. So Evil.
Mary has been told briefly what is going on, but it took a lot of convincing for him to agree to it. I understand this is a life changing issue, but it shouldn't be anything to hide from others, especially those who really want to help. Mary is such a dear. She's handles his temper and mood swings quite well, far better than any other women I've met before. I'm glad I will marry her. It's just so disconcerting to me. Our wedding day is coming fast and I've excited for it, but this will also mean a lot of changes for everyone's living arrangements. I can't leave Sherlock alone at a time like this! This is too much for him to handle. Being a creature of habit, small changes irk him greatly, and this is no small change. I'll have to speak with Mary about where we'll live, maybe the two of us will be able to work something out between him and Mrs. Hudson. He's my best mate. I can't and won't leave him to fight this proverbial battle alone.
A terrible hiss came from the violin that brought John out of his reverie, and he sighed. Sherlock was upset, so that poor violin would once again bear the wrath of the violinist. People who no longer had sight could still live an independent life for the most part; John knew Sherlock would want nothing less than that. Pride wasn't the main issue, but rather the acceptance of his failing sight was even more so. Sherlock had pride, but also knew his limitations. John was always the first person he turned to if something was a bit interesting on a case. This would be something entirely foreign to them both. John's medical training focused a lot more on emergency situations than building a doctor-patient relationship. John was good at keeping patients calm during the care, but post-operation patient care wasn't his forte. He didn't know how to handle Sherlock's behaviour, much less know how to help the consulting detective out of his depressed state.
A-N: Many thanks for all those that leave such lovely and encouraging comments, please continue to do so! Who got the reference in this chapter? I hope you did. Refering back to the previous comment in the prior chapter- Have you figured out what this story is also about? It's not merely telling about Sherlock going blind, there's more.
Enjoy and leave a thought! :D