Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 170
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
"… I can't count the times I have lagged seemingly hopelessly far behind, and nobody except myself thinks I can win. But I have pulled myself in from desperate [situations]. When you are behind there are two strategies – counter-attack or all men to the defenses… " Chess strategy - Magnus Carlsen
Final Moves… Part I… "Attack or Defend… It Begins."
"Let your tears come. Let them water your soul." ~ Eileen Mayhew
John sat across from Sherlock. His eyes were closed; his hands were positioned in the familiar prayer position, right under his chin.
"John, you're staring," Sherlock commented without opening his eyes.
"Would you look at me Sherlock?" John heard Sherlock sigh as he opened his eyes.
"Yes, John," Sherlock responded with a false calm.
"I made terrorist angry, they had revenge. It happened a long time ago. I'm fine."
"Bull!" John said sternly.
"Do you need tea John? You seem more upset than me. I'm sorry that you," He swallowed, "That all of you had to hear that unpleasant business, but I barely remember the incident. As I said, I'm…" Sherlock voice was low but the tension could almost be felt. "I'm…" He could not bring himself to say the word 'fine' again.
"You have to deal with this." John's voice was quiet. Sherlock did not answer. "I know you. You can't just pretend that it didn't happen. There's been entirely too much, coming at you entirely too fast. You can't keep stuffing them somewhere in a corner of your mind palace. You need a clear head to take Moriarty on, and win. And you will win."
Sherlock did not look or respond to John.
"I knew by the way you moved and talked that something happened. I knew you were beaten, I suspected that they attempted but…" John's voice trailed off for a moment. He looked at Sherlock now. "I made myself believe that I was mistaken."
He had a grim look and swallowed notably before responding. "Maybe I will have that tea after all, John?" Sherlock half smiled hoping to change the subject. It quickly turned into a pained look.
John started to move toward the kitchen when a thought occurred. He stopped. His eyes narrowed. His body became rigid as he marched back arms swinging. "It almost worked Sherlock. You are not going to distract me or sneak out when my back is turned. I can make tea if you like, but I'm not leaving until you tell me everything. Of course I'll wait until you're ready."
"Then it's settled John, I'll call you in a few years, maybe a decade when I am ready." Sherlock put his arms on the chair as if to raise himself.
"You have to discuss this!" John raised his voice stopping him.
Sherlock rose from his chair, and then walked over to John invading his personal space as he towered over him and said with false calm. "They beat me, fucked me, I finally screamed."
John stared open mouth in silent shock. He had never once heard such words leave his friend's mouth.
"Enough information for you?" Sherlock continued to tower over him, glaring at him, "As pleasant as this has been, I'll be off." He turned his back to John and took two steps.
"Sherlock," It was barely a whispered plea.
He stopped. With his back turned, it was obvious that Holmes was breathing heavily and trying to regain control of himself. Finally, he turned to see John still looking at him.
There was a tense silence for a few minutes.
"John do you understand? This is embarrassing and humiliating, and deeply personal and …" Sherlock looked almost pleadingly, "Why can't you just let it go…"
"Because you haven't let it go. You've buried it just like you bury every unpleasant thing Sherlock. You know what happens when you do that. You function well for a while then you have a nuclear size emotional meltdown."
John was hesitant. "I can't let it go because it might be in the newspapers in a day, or two, and I would like to hear the real story from you first." More quietly, "I would also like for you to prepare yourself."
"There is that." Sherlock said bitterly.
"You have to deal with it Sherlock," John said quietly.
Sherlock asked with venom glaring. "You think you have a magic ball and can see right through me?" Anger was rising along with the tremor in his voice."H… How do you know I have… haven't dealt with it Doctor Watson."
"So we're calling each other by last names now are we? Fine." John looked Sherlock in the eyes determined.
"Because I know you Mr. Holmes. I'm no Sherlock Holmes but I know my friend. I see things that no one else sees with the exception of your brother on some things, and that's only recently."
Sherlock's voice was dangerous and low, his eyes dark. "Don't ever think you can deduce me John. Don't ever think that you are capable of that."
The look that Sherlock gave him would have had most men cringe and back down. John was not most men. He stood his ground. He looks Sherlock up and down. "I see the shaking that's getting worse. That happens when you try to bury your feelings. And, yes I did use the dirty word, feelings, which are trying to come out. Your breathing is increased and you're tapping your foot like you're trying to force yourself not to flee. You stuttered. You don't even stutter when a gun is pointed at your head or a bomb is next to your arse."
With his hands on his hips, the doctor took a breath, calming. "But, you do stutter when in deep emotional distress. You don't exactly fall apart easily, so that mean that there are very few things on this earth that puts you in deep emotional distress."
John frowned. "I think an assault might be one of those it's time to fall apart things Sherlock."
Sherlock, without a word sat down stiffly.
John sat opposite him.
John pulled his body closer in his chair but remained seated.
"You have to deal with it. Forty-four hours will come whether you want it to or not."
Sherlock pulled himself forward in the chair, matching John. The Consultant Detective did not realize that his bent hands were balled into fist. Emotion collided brutally within him. Sadness. Embarrassment. Guilt. Shock. Fear. Anger. Shame. Anger. Shame. Anger…
Sherlock suddenly bolted upright again and glared irritably at John.
"I am a thirty-one year old man; I can take care of myself!" Sherlock growled as he again prepared to walk away from John.
John's voice stopped him.
"You couldn't that day." John said calmly without taking his eyes off Sherlock.
Sherlock stopped mid-stride. The normally graceful Consultant Detective almost tripped over his own feet. Sherlock felt like someone punched him in the gut. It was more painful because it was John. He was one of the few people that he allowed close enough to hurt him.
"W… What?" Sherlock whispered in shock. He looked at John as his legs lost their strength and he collapsed on the floor next to his chair. John partially caught him as they both gracelessly found the floor. Sherlock leaned against the back of the chair for support. He suddenly felt boneless.
He gave up all pretense of calm now. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened. No other sound came out as he stared at his friend. He did not even notice when a tear rebelled and fell. He stared at John with feelings of confusion. He felt like a knife was stabbed in his chest and he did not have the strength or will to remove it.
"I said you couldn't that day, Sherlock."
"John?"
John slowly slid his body on the floor so that he sat shoulder to shoulder next to Sherlock.
"There are evil people out there. You fight against them all the time. Every day someone is robbed, killed, murdered, and raped Sherlock," he felt Sherlock flinch at the word rape.
"Can we use another word John?"
John was confused for a moment then realized what he was saying. "What word would you like me to use?"
"I can live with assault. It's a nice neutral word, it can mean anything."
John raised his eyebrows, "See what I mean about burying your feelings and living in denial?"
Sherlock said nothing staring straight ahead. John sighed as he thought for a minute.
"Do you think I'm strong Sherlock?"
"Oh course, John," Sherlock said in a shaky voice. Sherlock had stopped looking at John and only started to look again when questioned.
"Two years ago, I was kidnapped as well. Ayyad already beat me and was about to have me beaten more severely, tortured, and raped in front of you, then killed in revenge. I am five years older than you are Sherlock. I am a skilled shot with a gun. I have been trained in hand-to-hand combat although admittedly rusty in the area, and I am a combat experienced soldier. I managed to stay alive in a war zone for four years. That didn't matter."
John paused to make sure that the words he said had time to soak through into his friend.
"There was nothing that I would have been able to do. You came in the doors, gun drawn, out thinking the lunatic and saved me Sherlock. If you did not, I could not have stopped him."
He paused before saying, "It wasn't because I was weak or failed. It would not have been my fault. It was outside of my control." John looked at him, "It was outside of your control."
John took a breath, "It happens Sherlock; to men, to women, even, God forbid, to children. You can be wealthy, strong, and intelligent. It can still happen."
John thought of a way to reach his friend. Sherlock seemed determined see his assault as a personal failure. He seemed to be of the opinion that he should have been able to stop the assault. He had to find a way to cut through the false guilt, and self-blame that his friend felt.
"Sherlock, you say that data and facts are more important than anything, right? So, let's examine the data, the facts without anything else at the moment."
After a breath, "You were in a car accident, kidnapped, beaten, and then sexually assaulted. Not one, but all of these events occurred within the space of a few hours."
He paused for Sherlock to confirm.
The younger Holmes only looked grim.
"Correct Sherlock?" John asked more firmly.
"Yes." Sherlock managed barely above a whisper. John could tell he was trying unsuccessfully to sound clinical and emotionless.
John continued, "Then you were taken by Mycroft into protective custody to keep you safe. You managed to escape, running toward the very people that just abused you and threaten to torture you again. You fought off Ayyad's men with the help of Agent Thomas, for the purpose of rescuing me, which you did by the way. Correct?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Can you say it please?" John's voice was gentle but still firm.
"Yes." Sherlock's voice was even quieter now. Sherlock eyes were fixed as if he was lost in a memory.
John noticed and frowned. He put his hand on Sherlock's arm. The Consultant Detective jumped at the contact and blinked a few times, then looked at John. John did not take off his hand but kept it connected. He did not want Sherlock retreating to his mind.
"And," John continued, "… when you thought you could finally collapse and rest, maybe have a good cry, feel sorry for yourself then schedule an emotional breakdown, you had to put it on hold to save your brother and stop a dirty bomb from exploding taking most of downtown London with it. All the while, you were in a great deal of pain, physically and personally. The entire event took place within the space of twenty-four hours."
"Did I miss anything Sherlock because I'm getting out of breath just talking about it?" John squeezed Sherlock's arm.
"You're incredibly brave Sherlock. If I was in your place, Thomas would have found me in a corner somewhere rocking back and forth." John tried to lighten the mood.
"I know you John. You would have come and rescued me first. Then maybe you would have found that corner and rocked back and forth." Sherlock attempted a small smile but it quickly left his face.
"It wasn't your fault. I've seen you take down easily several men outnumbering you in a fair fight." John shook his head, "Nothing about what those animals did was fair. Nothing about that recording is fair. Nothing about what happened to you is fair. And, as for Moriarty, he's not even a person."
John voice became angry, "Fine, Moriarty had a rough life, but so did you. You didn't use it as an excuse to hurt people. You're admittedly little rough around the edges, but you use your mind to help. There may have been something good in him at one time but something twisted Moriarty into something that's not even recognizable as human anymore."
"He cannot stand the fact that you are, despite everything that has happened to you, you're more human that most people I know. You remain strong."
"Nothing about this choice you have to make is fair." John's voice choked with emotions.
They both became quiet for a moment before Sherlock broke the silence.
"You're wrong John." It was barely a whisper.
"About what Sherlock?" John asked.
"That day, I wasn't brave. I was simply trying to put one foot in front of the other, to make sure that everyone that I lov…" Sherlock cleared his throat. "Um… cared about were alive and unharmed at the end of that day."
John chuckled sadly. "If that wasn't brave, more of us should be your version of not brave."
"We're lucky to have our own version of a superhero."
"I'm not a superhero, John. They don't exist." Sherlock said quietly.
"You are to me, Sherlock" John touched his arm.
"I deduce you are." John said with a look of serious contemplation on his face. "I've worked it all out. The way your mind works. I think you and your brother are secretly from some planet somewhere. That's the super part. That would also explain a… lot! The way you're always rescuing someone with that gigantic brain of yours. That's the hero part."
"My conclusion, Super plus hero equal superhero. It's all quite scientific." John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock looked back at John bewildered for a few seconds before saying...
"You do realize, you're an idiot?"
John only broke into a wide smile.
Sherlock, despite his resistance could not help the small chuckle that escaped his lips, nor, then smiling back. John seemed to always know how to get past his barbwire defenses.
John hit Sherlock's shoulder with his own shoulder almost childishly, and then he said, "I'm listening."
He noticed that Sherlock was shaking his head, with his eyes closed. A stray tear rolled down his face, but he said nothing as he leaned his head back against the chair. John squeezed his friend's arm again to show support.
John looked without saying a word more.
Sherlock finally opened his eyes and just stared quietly as he processed what was said to him. He looked at John then down to the floor.
John waited for him.
He waited with him.