What Have You Done To Me?

Chapter 2

John

I woke up in complete darkness, curled up in my chair. There was a blanket covering me. I don't remember getting a cover, unless Sherlock put it here? No, the idea of him doing something normal is laughable. I must have reached for it through the night. I stretched and stood up. Sleeping on a chair isn't the most comfortable place. I finally noticed that Sherlock was no where in the room, his bedroom door was shut. I hoped that he was getting some sleep, he desperately needed it. I crept upstairs and crawled under my own covers of my own bed.

I awoke to sunlight streaming through the window and the sounds of a violin coming from below. I laid for a while listening to Sherlock play. The song seemed to be dripping with emotion. It was sad, mournful and slow, then it changed and became hopeful. After Sherlock stopped playing I decided to get up. I made my way downstairs to find Sherlock was sat on the floor, violin laying beside him. "Sherlock? You okay?" He jumped up at the sound of voice making his dressing gown fly off in odd angles. "Morning John! You want a cup of tea? What am I saying, of course you do!" Sherlock scurried off into the Kitchen and busied about with cups. I knew something was wrong, he is never this bright and cheerful in the morning. And since when did Sherlock make tea? I decided to wait and see if he would talk to me first. He returned with our drinks and took his seat opposite me. I kept trying to steal glances at him without alerting him but his eyes never seemed to leave me.

We sat there drinking our teas whilst I was trying to figure out what was bothering him. God knows what Sherlock was thinking about. I finished my drink and decided to bite the bullet. "Sherlock, what's wrong? I know there's something, so don't lie to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?" I tried to read his face as I asked him this. Something flickered through his eyes but it was replaced with his mask moments later. "Oh well done John. You noticed somethings wrong. We must inform Scotland yard of this new genius!" He snapped. I recoiled. Why did he have to shout? I know that he's a sociopath but recently his moods have been getting better and I thought...oh. I guess I had hoped that I had been the cause of the change. These thoughts are getting worse. First his eyes, now this. Yes, I'll admit that his eyes are extraordinary, and that he is an attractive man with his cheekbones and his bouncy brown curls...no. Oh no. I think that I might be attracted to Sherlock. What am I saying? Even if I do fancy Sherlock, there's no way he'd ever like me back. it would unrequited love and that's a dangerous path to go down.

Sherlock  

I know I shouldn't of snapped at him. He flinched at my words. Maybe I had gone too far. I was trying to act normal around him but I was evidently struggling. I watched John as he got lost in his thoughts. his eyes were glazed over and his brow slightly furrowed. Damn, he looked adorable. Thankfully, I was dragged out of my reverie by Mrs Hudson bustling in to the apartment with a tea tray. 

John and Mrs Hudson sat for hours talking about complete nonsense such as the weather and the neighbours. I was unbelievably bored by the tedious conversation, so I went to seek solace in the silence of my room. Staring up at the ceiling, old voices starting whirring around my head. 'Caring is not an advantage' 'Freak!' 'Just go and kill yourself, Sherlock!' The sounds of my school days and Mycroft were taunting me. 'Just lock them away' I muttered to myself. They were shouting at me now. 'John? really brother dear?' 'The freak's in love, guys!' 'You know that John will never love you. Look at you! No-one will love you.' I sat bolt upright. Were they right?John is the only one willing to accept me. That implies he cares for me. He's straight though. He's just your friend and friend's care for each other. Stupid, stupid, stupid Sherlock! Had I actually mistaken John's caring attitude for something more? Obviously. Pathetic. Get a grip. I need to lock down these feelings and things will be the same as before.

I sat for hours trying to box up my emotions and out them in the darkest corners of my mind palace. It proved to be an impossible task. John kept appearing and following me around, talking to me. In the end I decided to give up and find a different way to deal with my problem. I thought about getting high but John would notice and that would lead to awkward questions. Plus he hated it when I was on the drugs and after my last episode, I told myself I would never hurt John in that way again. This only left one option. At least it would numb the pain for a while.    

Opening my door as quietly as I could, I snuck into the bathroom clicking the lock behind me. I didn't want John walking in. I rummaged in the cabinet and my fingers touched the cold metal of the blade. I sat perched on the edge of the bath, my sleeves rolled up. My eyes danced over my old scars from before. I had stopped when I met John because he was my new release. If he ever found out, he would leave Baker Street. He would leave anyway if he found out about my feelings for him. This way, I could hide my scars and keep my John. I hesitated for a moment before dragging the razor across my wrist. I watched as the blood rose to the surface and started dripping down. I repeated the process again and again, trying to purge myself of these feelings.