Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

28. A Huge Turnaround

My relationship with John seemed to be on the mend following that night out. We didn't give each other the cold shoulder anymore. In fact, we talked more than we had when I had been with him and Sherlock at Baker Street. We even came up with this little idea that once a day both of us had to tell the other something they didn't already know. Like, for instance, one day John told me he'd played the clarinet while at school. I'd told him my first boyfriend had been Moriarty. It was a rather grim fact when you thought about it, but it was still something John hadn't known about me until I told him.

An ache in my heart grew as I realized I didn't want to leave London. I was having too much fun being with John. True, I could never be Sherlock to him, but I could be Rachel Simpson.

I was lounging on the couch, too lazy to get up and head for the shower. I was tempted to flush the toilet when John was in there, just as a little prank. Oh, that was another thing I had told John. I used to be very rambunctious and a prankster when in middle school. Yeah, who would have thought it, right?

I was tempted to write in the journal again. At least I'd be writing better things.

My ears pricked up when I heard violin music. I whipped my head around, searching for the source. It must be in my head. He's not here. He's...gone. My throat became tight at the reminder. I tried to swallow, to push down the emotions that threatened to consume me. Gosh, it had been some time since I had to fight my emotions. I put my fist to my lips, as if that would calm me down.

Forgive me.

It was amazing, how two simple words could send a person into a crying fit. Hearing Sherlock's deep voice in my head made me lose it.

I remembered thinking that perhaps I saw regret in the consulting detective's eyes that day. Those blue-gray eyes...

Forgive me.

I buried my head into my knees, sobbing into them. I tried to breath, but all I did was hyperventilate. My mind was in a dizzying whirl.

"Rachel?" I barely heard John's voice over my loud weeping. I didn't pick my head up; my despair was keeping it down. "Rachel." I curled tighter into my little ball. "Pick your head up and look at me, please."

Tenderly, I did. I didn't see John sitting in front of me; he was at my feet, beside me. I looked at him through teary eyes. In his eyes, I could see he was fighting back the urge to cry along with me. I laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You brave man, trying not to cry," I whimpered. "It's the soldier in you, John. You can break down along with me, we've already cried once before over it."

"Oh. That again." John didn't say it like it was a negative thing when really it was. "Hold on." I wiped my eyes as he temporarily abandoned me. He came back with an entire box of tissues. I couldn't help but laugh again. "You might want to keep these with you."

I took ten tissues from the box, fiddling with one so I could blow my nose. "When will it stop, John?" I dabbed my eyes.

"I can't tell you that." I found some comfort in him taking my hand that didn't hold the now snot-drenched tissue.

I looked down at the ex army doctor. "I can't understand it, John." I sniffed.

"What?"

"How you can't have a stable girlfriend."

"I haven't found the one yet."

"Don't tell me you're hitting on me." If John turned out to be my dad that would be weird.