Heartbreak Grass

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John's been in solitary for two weeks now. I miss him. I need him. I am lost without my blogger. I watch each session through a two-way mirror. He is making progress, but it rends my heart in two when he begs Doctor Shaw to bring back my ghost, pleading with her to not dose him with meds, just so that he can see me one more time. John, what have I done? I read your blog after I jumped, it was trite and practical, nothing about your true feelings bled through the pixelated words. I suppose communication is not either of our strong points. Bugger.

Sherlock slammed his laptop shut, but not before Wiggins had a peek at the screen. "So, you're keeping an uncover blog, are you?"

"Mind your own business, minion."

"Fine, Doctor Shaw wants to see you."

"About what?"

"About John's PET scan."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oy, I just did, you bloody tyrant."

"You'd better not have been holding on to this information."

"No, she just told me."

"Fine." Then he glared at Wiggins and left the room.

Doctor Shaw paced in front of the PET scan, attempting a smile when he looked at her.

"What is it? It's bad news, isn't it?"

She avoided his eyes. "No, not exactly."

He felt his heart begin to pound. "Just tell me." He listened while she explained what the different colors meant on the scan.

"So, you see that even though his synapses appear to be more productive than his previous scans, he's still not functioning on all chemical levels."

"So, I need to revisit the formulation?"

Doctor Shaw, shook her head. "Sherlock, you're not listening. This is as good as it's going to get for him."

"What if I disappear out of his life again?"

Doctor Shaw smiled. "Sherlock, he was much worse off when you weren't here. My recommendation is that you have him re-institutionalized and maybe with time he will recover. Mental health issues related to trauma are difficult to predict. I could recommend a few top-notch facilities that specialize in his type of condition." She then laid a hand on his arm. "You really have tried your best and the formulas you have created are quite inventive and should be submitted to a pharmaceutical company for further study. It could make a difference for someone else."

He dislodged his arm from her grasp, then nodded. "Fine, Doctor, thank you for your help. I will send a wire to your account. Your services are no longer required."

"But..."

"Thank you and good day, Doctor." Then he turned his back on her and went in search of Wiggins.

"WIGGINS."

"Ow, what is it? I was just going to read an interesting article."

"Stop, you were looking at porn and we both know it. I need you in the lab."

Sherlock look a deep breath when they reached their destination. "I love the smell of chemicals. Now Wiggins, hand me my black coat and destroy the batch of strychnine. I have something far more interesting in mind. Put some gloves on and go to the cabinet and hand me the herb container with Chinese writing on it."

"Ow, I don't read Chinese."

"It's the only container that isn't in English, you twat."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Just get it."

Wiggins did as ordered, then handed him the container. "What's in it?"

"Gelsemium."

"Oy, what's that?"

"Heartbreak grass."

"What's heartbreak grass?"

"A very poisonous herb from the East."

"And who are we going to poison?"

"Me."

"You're off your bloody nut, you are, but okay."

"Ah, Wiggins I will miss you. Now hurry get me the black beakers, the game is definitely afoot."

***

Sherlock knocked on the door to John's room and his heart beat faster, when he called, "Come in."

He stood before him, smiling when the sun glinted off his golden hair. "John, I've come to give you your medicine."

"You mean you've come to poison me?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it was always a fantasy of yours."

"Ah, my clever Doctor, you have nothing to fear. I'm injecting the medicine into myself as well."

"Why?"

"Because we're both sick, John."

John looked at him and laughed. "Fresh poison each week?"

Sherlock nuzzled his neck. "This stuff will take you to Church and you'll be glad of the journey."

Then he rolled up his sleeve, and injected the golden liquid into a vein. "Okay, John, your turn now."

After he injected him he kissed the spot on his arm. "Now, I'm going to give you some edible cannabis, it will help with the nausea."

"The nausea?"

"Yes, an unfortunate side effect of the medication."

John took the small piece of chocolate from him and sniffed it. "You're turning me into a drug addict."

"Oh, stop complaining, you know you love the thrill of the chase just as much as I. Now, trust me in a few days we will both be feeling..."

"Better?"

"No, nothing, no pain, no indecision, no fragility, no fear, it'll be just you and me against the world, just like always."

"So, we'll be going back home?"

"Yes, John we will be going home?"

"To Baker Street?"

"To Baker Street, my love...Now, take your medicine."

"Will you get me off?"

"Anything you want, John, just name it," he whispered, in between the open-mouthed kisses he covered his chest with, letting his tongue encircle around a nipple until it hardened between his teeth in a small nub.

"Fuck, Sherlock, suck me off."

"Fine, but first some music, Haydn's Cello Concerto in D, the slow movement."

"Classical? Why always classical?"

"Because, dearest John, music is the first outlet that I learned to express myself in. Every sweet note is my love song to you. You are the embodiment of this beautiful concerto," he breathed, while he mouthed his way down John's stomach, delighting, when the muscles twitched under his tongue. John pulled his hair, moving his head in time with the gentleness of the slow tempo, each movement timed to perfection, each lick a masterful technique that led to his Doctor's climax, a salty liquid crescendo that he swallowed down with ease. Hard for me. Just the two of us, forever. Our last case—heartbreak grass.


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