Let The Shadows Win

What I'd Say If I Could

"He was happy with her, Sherlock. I didn't think it my responsibility to tear him away, especially when we both assumed you'd be in there forever." Greg admitted finally. Sherlock's stomach gave a great writhe of discontent, for hearing of John's happiness with Mary made him almost sick. To think that boy who he had loved so powerfully could just move on, and for the one person who knew of that love to just sit back and watch it burn...
"You ruined my life, Greg. And I forgive you for that. I'm a healthier man now, despite the years I lost because of you. But you ruined his life too. And for that...for that I can't even look you in the eyes." Sherlock spat.
"I didn't ruin John's life! That was not my fault! He fell in love, with someone who would treat him right, with someone who loved him back..."
"You're saying I didn't love him?" Sherlock growled, suddenly taking a step forward to which Greg bulked up, standing at his tallest and puffing out his chest in warning. Yet Sherlock wasn't afraid of him, he wasn't stupid enough to fight him and yet he didn't step back. Greg was scared; he was the one who should be running, not Sherlock.
"I'm saying you didn't do it properly! You think I was the one who ruined his life; at least I didn't send him to therapy and get him a great big nasty scar across his neck! I wasn't the one who made him chose between everything else in this world and me, because I couldn't figure out how to simply share!" Greg exclaimed. Sherlock stammered, and yet as soon as he tried to make words come out of his mouth he simply shut it once more. He couldn't figure out to say, he could only stare in agony, stare because he would never expect anyone to say something so daring, and so rude. Someone who he already had every reason to kill, now virtually handing him a gun and convincing him to fire.
"I...I did what I thought was best. For us." Sherlock whispered quietly.
"By killing him? My God Sherlock, don't you even know what you put him through? Those years that you were gone, those decades until finally he was able to step a foot out of the door without breaking down into terrified tears? He was having nightmares; he was seeing you in the corner of his eye, there was even a time when he tried to finish what you started. My God Sherlock...don't you understand what you made him do?" Greg growled. Sherlock blinked for a moment stepping away for now he was just realizing that he no longer had the floor. It was Greg's time for shouting abuse, and it would seem as though he had been perfecting this speech in his head until he could finally deliver it. He was no longer the one that was guilty.
"He tried to finish what I started?" Sherlock whispered nervously, his fingers creeping up towards his own unwounded neck, knowing of course that John housed a scar. A scar of his failed mission...
"He was in solitary confinement for a week. I was the one that found him with a kitchen knife, getting ready to slit his throat right over top of your newspaper article." Greg growled. "This was because of you, you got into his head and you broke him! And now he's only just recovered, and you're back again to try to manipulate him into your cult."
"I'm not trying to manipulate...Greg why didn't you tell me this before? Why didn't he tell me this? Why has no one said that it's my fault he was..." Sherlock stumbled into the wall behind him, shaking his head and covering his eyes so as to hide the tears that were beginning to fall. Was this Sherlock's fault? Had he really been so toxic as to drive John to suicidal thoughts, just because of everything that Sherlock had managed to push into his head and his heart? Had John really tried so hard to be with him again that he was willing to make himself a voice in Sherlock's head for good? Was he really dedicated enough to their love that he believed he would be better off dead and with Sherlock forever than living and trapped in his own world alone? It was touching yet terrifying, and when Sherlock reevaluated John's life now as opposed to what it might have been twelve or so years ago...well it was so well put together in that amount of time that it was astounding. John had fooled Sherlock into believing that his life since they had last said goodbye was a breeze, effortless and easy when in fact it had been a nightmare.
"I imagine you know why I would advise you to stay away." Greg muttered finally, just now noticing of course the tears that were falling down Sherlock's eyes without his permission.
"Because I'm toxic to him. Because I'm not meant to be with him. Because we love each other too much that it's...that it's deadly?" Sherlock whispered in defeat.
"And he's got a life now, without you. A life that he had to build on the ruins of your manipulation, brick by brick. And now you're here to tear it down once more." Greg pointed out. Sherlock took a sharp breath, remembering now the kiss that they had shared, and realizing now that John's loving him despite his family was not a challenge. Sherlock had imagined an affair to be like jumping hurtles that were twice your own size, dodging a wife, a child, and all the moral and ethical values that you were attempting to forget about. He had imagined John to be giving up everything to be with Sherlock, and only now was he realizing that John was falling back to him because it was the easier of the alternatives. He was only reuniting because he didn't know what else to do, he didn't know how to avoid Sherlock, and he didn't know how to say no. John was programed to love Sherlock, if not by nature than by Sherlock himself. And by kissing him in that kitchen, well he was doing what he was trying to avoid for all those thirteen years of weening. And just when he had made progress, just when he had crawled tooth and nail from a pit that Sherlock had dug for him, well here he was again to push him back in. Back into the very pit that Sherlock had been trapped in, except there weren't any shadows this time. No shadows...only darkness. Pitch black darkness, that engulfed him and asked for everything he had. Sherlock was the darkness, and John was the light. And when combined the light did not outshine, no the light was snuffed out by its own consent, simply because submitting was much easier than saying no. For it wasn't getting back to Sherlock that was his problem...it was staying away.
"Greg it feels like you're always around to ruin my day, just when I thought that maybe I was see the sun again." Sherlock whispered, shaking his head and stumbling to his feet, leaning heavily on his good leg while wiping the tears that still fell from his eyes.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, but between the both of us we want what's best for John. Yet you have a skewed perspective of what good is, whereas I'm able to see more logically." Greg muttered.
"You paint me to be some sort of villain...yet it's different now. Greg it's different, we didn't know what love was back then, we didn't know what life was. We were young, and I was...I was in the darkness of my brother's manipulation. I didn't know how else to keep him. It's different now." Sherlock pointed out. Greg nodded, yet still he didn't look convinced. Almost as if he was nodding just to ensure that no more tears fell today.
"Sherlock I know that your heart is in a good place. Yet your mind is still of somewhere it shouldn't be, and I don't trust you. I don't trust you to be around John, or his wife, or his daughter. And I'm asking you as a friend to stay away. I'm asking you, if you really do want what's best for him, to let him live the life he had built without you." Greg pleaded. Sherlock blinked, shaking his head as if he still wasn't able to process just what was happening here. What was supposed to be Sherlock drilling Greg for his guilt turned around very quickly, and instead of yelling at Greg for his injustices he was instead being interrogated himself. He was being reminded of how toxic he really was; to the people he loved the most. He didn't know what to say, for he knew that he couldn't make promises he didn't intend to keep. It wasn't possible for him to live without John; it would be like severing an appendage just after it had been stitched back on. It would be living without an arm, a leg, and a heart. Sherlock couldn't be in the world without that man, and a simple plea from a caring participant wasn't going to be enough to keep him away. No, instead Greg's concerns only now meant that there was one more person they had to stay away from. Because Sherlock was sane again, was he not? He was filling his hallow shell with morals and values; he was repairing himself from Mycroft's damage and making himself into the good person he always was meant to be. He wouldn't force too much out of John, and he would love him as he was supposed to love. Besides, Sherlock knew now how love was supposed to work. He was watching enough soap operas to know how true love was supposed to go.
"Greg, it was nice seeing you." Sherlock managed, blinking away the last of his emotions and holding out a hand to shake. He was intentionally avoiding answering the request that Greg had made, and it was obvious now to them both that there would be no promises this morning. And so Greg shook his hand reluctantly, staring him down in a very threatening sort of way.
"Sherlock, don't step out of line. If you do, I'll know. If anything happens, I'll know. And I'm a cop now, a real one, so I just need one excuse to throw you back into that penitentiary. This time with a life sentence. Don't test me, and don't go near John." Greg advised harshly, to which Sherlock could only nod. He didn't say anything more, he didn't even try to cooperate because he knew that one word out of his mouth would either make false promises or lead Greg to suspect his continuous intervention with John's life. He wanted not to lie but not to go against Greg's pleas, for he was right about one thing. They both did have John's best interest in mind, and now was just the time in which their methods were have to merge. Back when Sherlock knew nothing of love or life he had assumed that since he had lost everything to be with John that John would just have to do the same to prove his commitment. Yet that was now how it worked, and love was not shackles. Love was a commitment yet a happy one at that, one that was voluntary, not shackles more like...friendship bracelets. And all those years ago, when Sherlock had chained John to him just to ensure he would never drift away. He had never realized just how long it would take John to untangle himself, even when Sherlock was not there taunting him with the key that was just out of his reach.