Interlude I John

With a cup of tea in reaching distance and his laptop in front of him on the table John is sitting in the kitchen. He is writing his blog. He wants to write down the last case Sherlock has solved. It was something with a lost blue diamond and hiding it in a vase of flowers. He doesn't care. Sherlock found the diamond in less than an hour. Not concentrating properly on the task in front his mind begins to wander. He feels he is unable to control his thoughts.

He is sitting there and musing about his life. Can he go on like this? Since he moved to 221b Baker Street his life has been a whirlwind of solving cases and chasing all kinds of criminals London comes up with and Sherlock's interested in. But lately John had recognized that he is changing. He is worn out. Sherlock demands his time, his brain and consumes mostly all of his power. He feels like there is only a small space left for himself and that´s moments like these when he is alone.

He sighs. He likes doing all the things he's doing for Sherlock. He really likes spending most of his time with the only consulting detective the world has ever seen. In fact he loves it. It makes him feel alive. But if he is honest, like he is now, he knows he is burning out. You can't expect to be in alert modus 24/7 and show no signs of exhaustion. It has been awhile since he last saw Sarah and his sister and all of the little rest of friends, who have remained after he has returned from Afghanistan. The odd thing is that he does not miss one of them, because he is with the only person he wants to be with.

Sometimes he steps back and watches himself from the outside with his medical skills. These are the moments when he is afraid for himself. He knows where he is heading.

He drinks too much, visits the pub around the corner just too often. The doctor's voice inside whispers "John you're going to have a clinical depression. You have to stop right now." But he refuses to listen to his own voice. He is ignoring himself completely.

John closes his eyes to prevent the tears which are building up inside. He buries his face in his hands and starts to cry. No, life can't go on like this. He feels so empty and cut off everything. Sometimes he can't even breathe properly. And if he is truly honest down to the bottom he misses one thing. The one thing that he will never have, because it can't be. He misses the one thing that makes his chest ache and his heart break. The love of the only person in the world who's important now and will ever be. Because, like he said on their very first evening, he is married to his work. And how could a sociopath feel something so intense and complicated like love?

Damn it Sherlock, he thinks. Why must it be you? Sarah would be a so much better, an easier choice and she was available. And he had tried hard to fall for Sarah. They had had several dates. And every time he tries to make the next step, maybe to kiss her, the face of Sherlock appears in his brain. He hears the deep soft voice of his friend and his heartbeat increases. Then he looks at the woman in front of him and he knows a relationship with her will never happen. His heart is protesting against thinking about this idea. His heart has a different opinion. The heart seeks what the heart wants. And Sarah is definitely not what his heart wants. John's heart wants Sherlock.

Whilst crying he feels that with his tears his will to endure this life is fleeing out of his body. Sometimes he thinks about moving out and finding another flatmate, or better a cheap flat that he can afford on his own. Everything will be better than to act against his nature every day. To hide his feelings for his friend is not easy and not only because Sherlock can read people like an open book. It is also that he has to hide his feelings from himself, trying to forget that they exist deep down inside him so he can go on with his everyday life. And that he can put up a good show and do whatever is Sherlock wants him to do.

He remembers one day at the clinic. He stood in front of the room with all the pharmaceuticals. He had fought hard with himself not to enter it and grab the first antidepressant he would see. He had debated this solution internal for a few times before. With Sherlock he needs a clear mind and the chemicals would not be the infinite solution to his problem. After a few minutes he had returned to his office without entering the room. So there will be no medical help for him.

He knows he is doing it for the greater good, even if it feels like sacrificing himself. Sherlock is needed and can't be sidetracked. He requires his clear and sharp mind to solve the cases. John knows he is the one to watch his back and give Sherlock the strength to do his job. He swears to himself to stay as long as possible. Maybe he just gets lucky and Sherlock awakes one day to find out that he is feeling the same for his flatmate.

At night John allows himself to dream sometimes. He has this dream that he confesses all the feelings which he has been holding back for so long now. And Sherlock would call him stupid idiot and kisses him. John shakes his head. No, that is just wishful thinking. This scenario will never occur.

He comes to the conclusion that he has to do something. He is not sure if the idea that is coming up in his mind is a good one. He is afraid of the results. On the other hand he is not ready to leave. He will have to call Mycroft and ask for his help. His mind is whirling.

He inhales deeply to steady his breathing. Slowly he gets up to find something to wipe his face. Dear Lord, if Sherlock comes in and sees him like this. No, he will not let that happen.