Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 39
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.
"Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall." Confucius
Present Day
"Get out," Sherlock whispered.
"Get out," Louder now.
"I... Said… Get… Out!" Sherlock didn't mean it, but was losing control and did not know what else to say or do.
Sherlock had moved into John's personal space, hands by his side shaking lightly.
"I'm not going anywhere Sherlock; I thought you would have figured that out by now." John said quietly.
John waited for Sherlock to hit him. He thought he deserved it.
"FINE, then I'll leave." Sherlock grabbed his coat pulling it on with one smooth movement. He grunted from the pain. Sherlock ran down the stairs so fast that he nearly stumbled.
"WAIT," John shouted, near panic as he heard the door slam.
John grabbed his coat to follow, not bothering to put it on. John ran down the stairs, and then froze with one hand on the handle. The fingers of his other hand dry combed his hair.
(Follow him… don't follow… you'll make it worse… It's dangerous for him to be alone.)
These thoughts slammed against the walls of John's mind until he was dizzy.
John cursed.
Suddenly he ran upstairs tripping over a few steps.
John frantically dialed a number, "Pick up, pick up, pick the bloody hell up!"
"John," Mycroft's answered, his voice showing concern.
John did not hesitate.
"Mycroft, I made a mistake."