Sherlock's secret

CHAPTER 21

John's POV

John sat facing Sherlock in his chair, looking goddamn adorable blowing on his steaming cup of tea. He looked away, hoping Sherlock would not notice the sudden redness in his cheeks.

John cleared his throat. "Sherlock, we need to talk about this."

"I know," he replied solemnly, staring into his cup like it would give him the right things to say. "What...do you want to know?"

"I want to know how many times you've done this. Attempted, I mean." He chastised himself for not even being able to say the words.

"This will be the seventh time," Sherlock mumbled.

John thought he had heard him incorrectly. "I'm sorry, what?"

He looked up with a defeated expression, replying "The seventh time."

"R-right." He tried to keep his face blank - tried to view Sherlock like he would any other patient - but he couldn't keep the waver out of his voice. "Um, would you - would you mind telling when and why you did it? I realise you won't want to talk about this, but its important, Sherl."

His flatmates face pinched with fear but it passed so quickly John was uncertain he saw it. 

"Fine."

Sherlocks POV

"Fine."

Sherlocks heart pounded in his chest and his breathing grew louder. Internally, he cursed, paranoid that John could hear him breathing.

He took a deep breath. "The first time, I was fifteen; Mycroft had just moved out of home. I tried to cut into a vein. That was before I knew how," he added, regretting it instantly. John rubbed his hands over his eyes before he gestured for Sherlock to continue.

"The second time, I was sixteen; my only friend had deserted me. I overdosed. The third and fourth time weren't really because of anything, I was just - just done with life." Sherlock looked up uncertainly, half expecting John to have dozed off by now. Instead, he looked at the ground in a daze, a tear coming from each eye.

A sharp pang of pain hit Sherlock when he saw Johns expression. He had done this. He tried to swallow but found he could not. The pain of trying not to cry made his throat cramp up and he paused, hoping the feeling would just disappear.

"The fifth time was after you tried to kill yourself the first time." John noticeably flinched, and a tear dropped from Sherlocks lashes. "They - they were the big scars you saw on my wrists."

"Then there was the one after you found out about my - my cutting, and then the one in the hospital," Sherlock finished, his calm demeanour slowly slipping back into place.

Silence filled the space for several eternities, suffocating both of them.

Finally, John looked up at Sherlock with a face of gratitude, shock, and sadness. "Thank you," he whispered, before getting up to go to his room.

"John?" Sherlocks voice came out in a crack. His heart beat so hard he was sure John could hear it. He didn't want to know but at the same time, he had to ask.

"What did you mean? At the hospital, I mean, when - when you said you...loved me?"

Johns face fell. "Nothing, Sherl. Absolutely nothing."