Nᴏᴛ Gᴀʏ {Tᴇᴇɴ/Jᴏʜɴʟᴏᴄᴋ}

№ 8

I studied the pill in my hand.

My logical mind knew it wouldn't work, but the tiny voice in the back thought it would. That there was a chance. That maybe, just maybe, it could stop me from being whatever I was and make me, well, normal. That's what Mum would want.

I sat back against the wall and closed my eyes. Everything felt surreal, as if I were dreaming. I was living in a completely new place across the street from my soon-to-be flatmate, and I had just begun to acquire potential feelings for him. I started to question if I was even alive or just living some dream. Maybe this was what the afterlife was like. But I couldn't remember dying, so I came back to reality and began thinking logically.

These wouldn't work, the pills. Not at all. So I tossed them carelessly into the next room, hearing them hit the floor with a thump and a rattle and then become silent. I inhaled sharply as I moved my shoulder too quickly. I ought to have remembered to take it easy. It wasn't difficult to forget not to move a part of your body when you've been doing it your whole life. It was hard to adapt to change.

Why me?

Why did I have to feel this way? Why couldn't I just fall in love with a girl? I wished I was different, yet I still liked what I felt.

What was wrong with me?

Staring out the window, I observed as leaves fell from the trees around the house and slowly drift back and forth until they touched the ground. I tucked my knees to my chest and hugged my legs with my arms, slowly rocking back and forth as I let myself think.

I hadn't seen Sherlock since two days ago.

I hoped he wasn't worried. I had spent time with him every day until now. Maybe he thought I was sick of him. I didn't want him to think that. I definitely was not sick of him. I really liked being with him. I liked it a lot. Did he know? I hoped so. He was clever; he could figure it out. I so liked him, being in his presence, hearing him talk.

I had promised to be his partner. I knew I had to keep that promise. He was so easily broken.

Carefully picking up the pills from the floor to put them away, I read the back label out of curiosity.

"These worked a dream for my daughter! Two days of taking them and she had completely forgotten her feelings for her girlfriend. In fact, she claimed she had forgotten her entirely!"

-Patti H. from Westminster

Coughing suddenly in surprise, I jumped to my feet and stuffed the bottle in my pocket, running up the stairs and slipping my trainers on.

"Mum," I called, "I'm going out!"

"Alright!" she replied, not giving me any indications of when she wanted me back. But that was who she was.

I had been accepted for the job at the hospital, but she had made me decline because of the shooting to my shoulder I had received a good five minutes away from it. Not that I had wanted to work there in the first place. She was just being too indecisive.

Pulling a winter hat over my head, I leapt out the door and across the street, knocking and waiting to be let inside.

"Oh, hello, John," Sherlock's mother said. "Come in."

I thanked her and stepped inside, taking off my shoes and hat. "Where is he?" I asked.

She pointed up the stairs. "Down the hall to the right is his room," she said. "If he doesn't answer when you knock, let yourself in. He's most likely just thinking."

I nodded as I quickly ascended the flight of stairs to the first floor of their home, following his mum's direction and knocking on Sherlock's dented and chipped door.

"What is it?" he asked irritably from inside.

"It's John," I said. "May I come in?"

"Oh, John," he replied, his voice immediately softer. "Of course. Let yourself in."

I opened the door and stepped inside. He had a rather large room, full of multiple tables of science equipment and a small refrigerator in the corner. It was all surprisingly clean and tidy, and I watched as he glanced in my direction from where he was sitting in front of a microscope.

"Hello," he said, his voice deep and almost surprised.

"Hi," I said, sitting in a chair across from his.

He jotted a few notes down on a sheet of paper, keeping his eyes mostly on his work except for the occasional glance my way. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh?" I asked. "Why not?"

"People tend to ghost me after a few days of knowing me, so when you stopped coming over for two days in a row, I thought that was it." He changed the microscope slide and prepared a new one.

I nodded. "Well, I'm not like them, I suppose," I said.

He watched me for a moment before turning back to the experiment. "So I've observed."

I sat, focusing on my own thoughts for a moment before breaking the silence and taking out the pill bottle. "I thought you'd like this," I said. I pointed to the part of the label that I had read. "Same side effect as the little black pill from Mary."

Sherlock took it in his hand. "You didn't take any, did you?" he asked. "But you were thinking about it." He cast his eyes over my suddenly irritated face, and I gritted my teeth in hopes that he wouldn't keep knowing things.

I sighed. "Just read the label."

"A shame, too, that," he said. "You could have forgotten Mary."

I glowered a bit at him. He didn't understand. If I had taken one, there would be a chance of me forgetting him, and there was no way that I would let that happen. I was his only friend, and I wouldn't let him lose me. "Well, um," I said, "I think it's good that I remember Mary, so that we both know to stay away from her."

He nodded. "Fair point." He took a pill out from the bottle and crushed it with a plastic slide, putting a few particles on a slide in a drop of water and placing it under the microscope.

"Tell me, John," he said. "What has happened in the past few days that you haven't told me about?"

At first I was scared. Initially, I thought he was talking about what I realised about my emotions. But then I remembered that he wasn't good at knowing about emotions, so I knew that wasn't the case. And then I felt a pang of guilt and hesitantly answered the question. "I've been writing more," I said. "In my journal."

"Mm," he said. "And what sorts of things have you written about recently?"

I shifted in my seat. "To tell you the truth, you've been showing up in it a lot lately. I'm starting to think you're the main character!" I laughed it off nervously, trying not to be too obvious and trying not to lie.

He glanced up at me again. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I replied. "Because you're exciting, compared to my family. You add a special quality to my life that nobody else does, or ever has..." I trailed off as I slowly realised I had begun to ramble, so I stopped and stared at my hands.

Sherlock looked straight at his microscope. "Thank you," he said. "That means more than you would think it did."

I smiled awkwardly, flustered as I couldn't think of things to say. So I didn't say anything. I just watched.

And I think his eyes lit up just the smallest bit when I did, so I decided not to stop. I liked watching him, anyway.