Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Sherlock huffed out a noisy breath and opened his eyes, blinking a few times. Where was Anita? She never left him when he was in the hospital, even that one time she put him in there. Culverton breathed out noisily from his seat.
"You've been ages waking up. I watched you. It's quite lovely in its way," Culverton commented, quietly. Sherlock swallowed and looked towards him.
"Take it easy. It's okay. Don't want to rush this. You're Sherlock Holmes," Culverton continued, still just as quiet.
"How did you get in?" Sherlock questioned in a whisper. Culverton stood up and walked closer to the bed, pointing towards the door.
"Policeman outside, you mean? Come on. Can't you guess?" he asked, voice low. Sherlock's gaze turned to the wooden panel opposite his bed.
"Secret door," Sherlock explained.
"I built this whole wing," Culverton stated, looking up and twirling a finger around to gesture at the surrounding room.
"Kept firing the architect and builders so no-one knew quite how it all fitted together. I can slip in and out anywhere I like, you know...when I get the urge," said Culverton.
"H. H. Holmes," Sherlock stated as Culverton smiled.
"Murder castle, but done right. I have a question for you. Why are you here? It's like you walked into my den and laid down in front of me," Culverton stated and Sherlock lowered his eyes.
"Why?" Culverton pushed.
"You know why I'm here," Sherlock replied as he met Culverton's gaze briefly before lowering his eyes again.
"I'd like to hear you say it. Say it for me, please," Culverton commented, smiling. Sherlock fixed his gaze on Culverton before responding.
"I want you to kill me."
Culverton moved over to the side of the bed and rested his gloved left hand in the bed close to the end of Sherlock's left hand, which was set on the blanket. Anita had put it there mere minutes before Culverton snuck into Sherlock's room.
"If you increase the dosage four or five times...toxic shock should shut me down within about an hour," Sherlock stated as Culverton looked across to the drip stands. He straightened up and started to walk around the foot of the bed.
"Then I restore the settings. Everyone assumes it was a fault, or you just gave up the ghost," Culverton said with a smile.
"Yes."
"You're rather good at this," Culverton commented as he took his jacket off.
"Before we start...tell me how you feel," Culverton requested as he dropped his jacket onto the chair near the drip stands. He reached to the shirt cuff on his left hand and took out the cufflink.
"I feel scared," Sherlock replied, softly. Culverton scoffed, quietly.
"Be more specific. You only get to do this once."
"I'm...scared of dying," Sherlock answered as Culverton removed his right cufflink and put both of them onto the seat of the chair.
"You want this, though," Culverton stated as he rolled up his sleeves.
"I have...reason."
"But you don't actually want to die."
"No," replied Sherlock and Culverton smiled.
"Good. Say that for me. Say it," he ordered and Sherlock frowned slightly.
"I don't want to die."
"And again," Culverton requested.
"I don't want to die," Sherlock repeated, a little louder and firmer.
"One more for luck."
"I don't want to die. I don't..." Sherlock said, tearfully, but he paused as Culverton took a few steps closer to his bed and leaned over him. All Sherlock could think about was Anita. He couldn't leave her. He just got her back and he wasn't ready. He wanted to grow old with his girl. Sherlock wasn't ready to die because he had something to live for. He had his Anita.
"...don't want to die," Sherlock finished and Culverton leaned closer until his face was only a few inches above Sherlock's.
"Lovely," he said in a soft intense voice before smiling and straightening up.
"Here it comes," Culverton commented and he reached a finger to the control panel next to the drip stand and pressed the button twice. It beeped noisily each time and Culverton pressed another button and started to press it repeatedly. Sherlock stared at him in anguish. He didn't even get to say goodbye. Culverton slowly walked around the foot of the bed, asking,
"So tell me: why are you doing this? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I wanted to hear your confession; needed to know I was right," Sherlock replied, quietly.
"But why do you need to die?" Culverton pushed.
"The mortuary; your favorite room," said Sherlock, causing Culverton to smile slightly.
"You talk to the dead. You make your confession to them," Sherlock explained. Culverton sniffed, straightened up, rubbed his nose and turned towards the chair, shaking his head.
"Why do you do it?" Sherlock questioned.
"Why do I kill?" Culverton clarified as he sat down in the chair and rubbed his fingers against each other, "It's not about hatred or- or revenge. I'm not a dark person. It's...killing human beings..."
Culverton lowered his head and chuckled quietly, nearly silent, for several seconds.
"...it just makes me...incredibly happy," he finished and Sherlock gave him a tiny smile. Culverton's smile slowly faded and he breathed out a hard breath through his nose before standing up and walking to the bed and leaning his hands on the blanket.
"You know i-i-in films when- when you see dead people pretending to be dead and it's just living people lying down? That's not what dead people look like," Culverton said as he shook his head. Then, suddenly, his gaze and voice became more intense.
"Dead people look like things. I like to make people into things. Then you can own them," he stated before huffing out a laugh and straightening up.
"You know what? I'm getting a little impatient," Culverton commented and he bent down to the foot of the bed, pressing a button on the side. The top of the bed lowered down to a horizontal position. Sherlock looked anxiously over at the door, hoping Anita or John, preferably both of them, would come storming in.
Once the bed was flat, Culverton straightened up and bared his teeth as he looked down at Sherlock, running his tongue along his bottom lip before walking around to the other side of the bed. He straightened the glove on his right hand and leaned towards Sherlock.
"Take a big breath if you want," Culverton whispered to him. Sherlock, frightfully, lowered his gaze to Culverton's hands.
Sherlock gasped in a breath as Culverton laid his right palm over his mouth and pressed down hard, before pinching Sherlock's nose shut with his left fingers. Sherlock started to wither under him as Culverton pushed his hand down on Sherlock.
"Murder is a very diffcult addiction to manage. People don't realize how much work goes into it. You have done to be careful," Culverton stated as Sherlock's eyes widened and he grabbed Culverton's lower right arm and flailed weakly with his other hand, trying to get him to let go. Anita would never forgive him if he didn't at least say goodbye.
"...but if-if you're rich and famous and loved, it's amazing what people are prepared to ignore. There's always someone desperate, about to go missing and no one wants to suspect murder if it's easier to suspect somthing else!" Culverton continued as his voice shook with how much effort he was putting into resisting Sherlock's struggle. Sherlock, not one to give up easily, continued to struggle under Culverton, his face covered in sweat.
"I just have to ration myself; choose the right heart to stop," said Culverton as Sherlock, still struggling, saw his life flash before his eyes, his mind racing as every memory of Anita Sherlock had stored away hit him.
"Please, maintain eye contact. Maintain eye contact. Please. I like to watch it...happen," Culverton requested, intensely. He leaned down closer to Sherlock, with teeth bared and his gaze ecstatic.
"And off we...pop," he stated as Sherlock stopped moving and the heart monitor turned to a long single tone.
The door smashed open, revealing John holding a fire extinguisher and Anita standing next to him. John has slammed the fire extinguisher against the door to break the lock, clearly. Culverton turned to look, straightening out and releasing Sherlock, who noisily hauled in a long painful breath. As the heart monitor started to blip normally again, Anita rushed into the room as John dropped the extinguisher.
"Mr. Holmes! You okay?" the guard asked. Anita grabbed Culverton by his collar, pulling him away from Sherlock and shoving him over to John, who wrapped his arms around Culverton's neck. Anita got up in Culverton's face, glaring at him.
"What were you doing to him?" Anita growled, lowly, before turning away and going to Sherlock's side to check on him. Culverton whimpered plaintively as Sherlock moved weakly on his bed, Anita setting a hand on his shoulder and comforting him.
"What were you doing?!" John repeated, loudly, as he dragged Culverton across the room. Culverton failed in the direction of the bed.
"He's in distress! I-I'm helping him!" Culverton lied as John hurled him into the confused officer's arms.
"Restrain him, now! Do it!" John ordered as the officer took hold of Culverton's arms from behind.
"I was trying to help him!" Culverton claimed as he gestured towards the bed. Anita turned, glaring over at him.
"You were trying to help him, my ass! Darling, what was he doing to you?" Anita asked, softly, turning to her husband.
"Suffocating me, overdosing me," Sherlock replied, breathlessly, as he gestured over to the drip stand.
"On what?" questioned John.
"Saline," Sherlock answered.
"Saline?"
"Yeah, saline," Sherlock repeated as he propped himself up on one elbow, still breathing heavily. Anita looked over at him as John walked over to the drip bag, looking at it. Sherlock groaned and breathed shakily.
"Well obviously I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags. She's a big fan, you know. Loves my blog," Sherlock replied and John frowned at him.
"You're okay?" he asked.
"No- no, of course I'm not okay. Malnourished, double kidney failure, and frankly I've been off my tits for weeks," Sherlock replied, finally catching his breath. Anita let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head at her husband. He looked over at her, smiling. He didn't have to say goodbye. Not today, not anytime soon either. Not if Sherlock Holmes had anything to stay about it.
"Honestly, what kind of doctor are you?" Sherlock asked as he groaned and settled down on his pillows.
"I got my confession, though, didn't I?" Sherlock commented as he looked across at Culverton, who pulled himself free of the officer.
"Huh! I don't recall making any confession," Culverton replied and he started to walk forwards but John held out a hand towards him and Anita stood up, reaching a hand behind her and resting it on her gun.
"I'd pick your next steps very precisely," Anita sneered, glaring slightly. Sherlock watched his wife, smiling slightly. Oh, that was true love right there. Willing to shoot someone for the other person. Or, maybe, that was just his definition of love.
"What would I be confessing to?" Culverton asked once he stopped and looked between John and Anita, indignantly.
"You can listen to it later," Sherlock replied.
"But there is no confession to listen to!" Culverton insisted before he stopped, gasping and holding up his hands.
"Oh, Mr. Holmes. I- I don't know if this is relevant, but we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat. Um, all your possessions were searched," Culverton stated then he looked over at Anita and John.
"Sorry."
Anita stared at Culverton for a second before looking over at Sherlock, who lowered his eyes before looking up at Anita and shifting his eyes over to his right. Anita followed his gaze to where Jon's walking cane was and stared at it for a second before giving Sherlock a pointed look. He smiled brightly at her as she shook her head.
"Must be something comforting about the number three," Sherlock stated as Anita looked over at John and Culverton, still shaking her head in disbelief at her husband.
"People always give up after three," Sherlock continued as Culverton stared at the couple in horror. Oh, Anita was really going to cherish sending this man to jail.
"What? What is it? What?" John questioned. Sherlock and Anita shared a look and opted to remain silent as John sighed in exasperation at the couple.
"You cock."
"Yeah," Sherlock replied as Anita snorted.
"Utter, utter cock," continued John.
"Heard you the first time," Sherlock said as he turned his head away and settled more comfortably onto the bed and Anita sat down on the edge again. John stepped across to the chair by the door and picked up his walking cane, holding it up.
"So how- how does it open?"
"Screw the top," Sherlock replied as he grabbed Anita's hand. John took hold of the handle and started to turn it, while Culverton watched with a grim expression. John pulled the handle off the cane, revealing a small device inside the stick which was glowing bright red. John pulled the recording device out and the bulb went out. He then looked across at Sherlock, who was admiring his lovely wife. He was entitled to; he nearly died.
"Two weeks ago?"
"Three," Sherlock corrected.
"I'm that predictable?" John questioned.
"No," Sherlock replied, smiling. Anita shook her head as John sighed through his nose and looked down. Sherlock then turned to Culverton.
"I'm just a cock," he said as Culverton stumbled on the spot, staring at the device, his face full of despair. Anita turned her attention from Culverton as Sherlock squeezed her hand. Anita looked down at him, giving him a questioning look.
"I haven't gotten a kiss in a month and I nearly died. I think you owe me," Sherlock told her, cheekily. Anita smiled to herself before setting her hand on his cheek and leaning down, giving him the kiss he'd been waiting weeks for. Sherlock smiled into the kiss, pulling her closer. Oh, he really did miss her. Anita pulled back slightly, still close enough for Sherlock to be satisfied.
"Happy?" she hummed and Sherlock shook his head. Anita rolled her eyes but leaned down again. She had been waiting for this moment since she left. Did she expect their first kiss when she got back to be in a hospital after him being nearly killed? No, but it was very them.
author's note !