The Struggling Sociopath

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.

John's mother cried as he said goodbye to her. He felt a slight stab of guilt which shot pain through his heart. She had already lost a husband to the war and now there was the chance she would lose a son. But John knew it was the right thing. It was what his father would have wanted. He had always pushed John towards the army. Now John was signing up. He had already got what he wanted; he was a Doctor now after all. So he would honour his dad's memory. Serve his country.

John gave his mum a big hug, accepting the kiss on his cheek.

"Stay safe," she whispered tearfully. John nodded in reply.

"When you're on leave I expect a visit." John smiled at Mike's words. He had moved away from his mother to say his goodbyes to the man who had been his best friend for the past four or so years.

"I'll try," John replied. "No guarantees."

"Don't worry. Just don't get yourself killed."

"I don't plan to." John bent down, scratching Gladstone gently between the ears. The dog sat obediently beside Mike who held his leash. Mike had promised to look after him until he could find a better home. John hoped Gladstone was happy wherever he went. John loved the dog to pieces. He had got him through some hard times. "Anyway, this is goodbye. I need to get on the train."

"Bye. Stay safe." John smiled at his friend before heading over to the train. It left in about five minutes so if he didn't get a move on he'd have to wait for the next one. That was the last thing he wanted. All he was bringing with him was a very small battered suitcase. Almost everything would be provided.

"John!" John heard his name called as he stepped up onto the train. The voice was familiar, a deep baritone. A voice he had only heard in dreams recently. No... it was just his imagination. There was nobody calling his name. Least of all Him. He was dead. John shook his head slightly and moved into the carriage. He plopped himself down at a window seat with a table in front of him and put his suitcase in front of him. He frowned slightly, standing to open the window before sitting again. He lost himself in his thoughts, his mental preparation. He would be leaving soon. Then that would be it. His life would be completely changed. Nothing like what he was used to.

"John!" It was the same voice. John turned his head sharply to look out the window. A light gasp escaped his lips as shock clouded his mind. No. It was his imagination. There was no way that He was running towards the train. But then how could it be fake. He couldn't exactly dream it up. Not in that much detail. Not the black curls, the many coloured eyes, the long black coat and blue striped scarf. Not the perfect being that had shouted his name. Sherlock.

John stood suddenly, moving away from his chair. As fast as he could he got to the aisle. Began moving back towards the door. He had to get off. He could catch the next train. He had to talk to Sherlock.

After he had punched him, of course. He would talk after that.

John felt his heart drop as a slight motion jerked him forward. Then the train was moving away, increasing speed so that the people at the station became a blur. No. He hadn't managed to get off. John moved back to his chair and collapsed with a slight huff.

It was hard to believe. Barely registering in his mind. Sherlock was alive. How? John had seen his body lying on the ground after he jumped, covered in blood. So much blood. For the first two years he had dared to hope that it had been a fake. That Sherlock had gotten out of it. After all, he was a genius. But gradually that hoped disappeared until it died altogether. Now he was back. He was actually back.

John was staring at his phone when it began to ring. Unknown number. But it could only be one person. John answered quickly.

"Hello, John Watson speaking."

"John-" John cut him off before he could say anything else. Entice him with words in that beautifully deep voice.

"You fucking bastard. How could you do that to me?! I thought you were dead. I thought you were fucking dead, Sherlock. And now you appear out of the blue. It may be all well and good for you but I had to survive five fucking years thinking that you were dead. Fuck you. I don't need any of your explanations. You were dead."

"John, please, just listen for a moment."

"I don't want to listen, Sherlock. You can't just expect to come back into my life and change everything. You pretended to die. You could have told me!"

"John..." Sherlock's voice was... sad? Well whoopee seemed the Sociopath felt something. "He threatened you. James Moriarty, JM, threatened you. He was going to ruin your life, John. Your career, everything. You wouldn't have been able to become a doctor. Everything you wanted, lost. Because of me. I had to jump, John. I couldn't do that to you. That's why I didn't reveal myself until now. He's still out there. He would have got you kicked out of university. But now you're a Doctor and you're safe."

John was speechless for a moment. He let the words sink in. "Well... Eh, that explains some things. But I can't just forgive you. You could have told me. I would have quite happily had my dreams ruined if it meant a life with you. We could have sorted it out. I loved you, Sherlock. I loved you so much that it hurt. Have you ever seen the one closest to you dead before you? Because I did. I loved you. Now I'm not so sure."

"John... Please. Just think things over. Don't join the army yet. Come back. Please."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. But this is what I have to do. My dad would have wanted it. I can't just drop everything for you. I loved you but... I can't think any further on it right now. I need time. Maybe when I come back from the army we can talk. But I'm going to serve my country. And... I've moved on. Maybe you should too."

"John..."

"Goodbye Sherlock." John hung up, brushing away the falling tears. He still loved Sherlock. He knew deep down in his heart that he did. But he wasn't ready to admit it. No, for now he would continue on his chosen course of action. Sherlock wouldn't change that.

John's phone buzzed and a text popped up. He frowned as he checked it.

I'm sorry -SH