Two Years Gone

Goodbye

*Sherlock POV*

"I'm leaving today, work detail came in a few days ago."

"You're not ready to go yet."

"I am. I'm fine."

"You, are still injured and in no condition to leave yet."

"Shut up."

"John-"

"Shut up!"

I limp out of the room, still unsteady on my feet, and end up back in my room. It hurts, moving, so I let myself fall back onto the bed and curl up under the covers. The door opens suddenly, waking me.

"John..."

"Fucking hell, go away."

"Stop it, your brother has been trying to reach you for the past week. Answer your mobile."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I dont feel like getting yelled at right now."

"No one is yelling at you."

"Get out!"

She turns, leaving the room and shutting the door quickly. I roll onto my stomach, sliding out of bed and grabbing the bag I have stashed under it. Irene doesn't search my room as well as she says she does, missing the drugs every time she looks through my stuff. I pull one needle out, only using enough to calm my mind before I pull a cigarette and a lighter.

"John?"

"Go away."

The door opens again, just as I shove the bag back under the bed.

"Put it out."

"No."

"Now."

"No. Get out."

Irene walks over, reaching her hand out to take it from me.

"I said to get out."

"And I said to put that out. Now."

"Fuck you. I dont give a damn what you want."

She leaves again, clearly frustrated with me. Soon the front door opens and closes, deadbolt sliding into place. I wait about ten minutes before I try to stand, cursing when the movement sends a shooting pain up my leg. It takes me another ten minutes to stand, tears running down my face by the time I am on my feet. My mobile rings, startling me to the point of almost falling back onto the floor. I ignore it, limping back out of the room and into the kitchen for some tea. Its keeps ringing, sound piercing the silent air in an annoying manner.

I eventually return, muting the ringer as I begin packing my bags. All of the cash Mycroft sent out has been saved up, sitting in my case for some time I would actually need it. It isn't too hard to pack up what ill need, I never unpacked. Soon enough I'm standing outside, huddled under Mycrofts umbrella as I wait for the cab I called to arrive. I write my note, a final goodbye to everyone, and attach it to the handle of the umbrella before I leave it on the doorstep. The cab pulls up, driver helping me load my bags into the boot before we set off.

"Where to kid?"

The cabbie turns around, a middle aged man that is quite difficult to read. I give him a random location, the one that one that comes to mind, and we are soon driving into the city.