I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was standing in between bookshelves at the library. But it didn't look as cheerful as I previously saw it, it seemed dark, like it did indeed hold a psychopath in its walls. And there he was, the exact man in the picture from the 1800's, sitting on one of the wooden chairs near the window.
"Hello Mr. Watson, how are we today?" he asked, slowly flipping through the pages of a book and gesturing to the seat beside him, an invitation. But I didn't sit, seeing him there made my chest well up with emotion, he was so casual, he had no idea that I knew what he was. When I didn't sit he looked up in slight confusion, but I just took a deep breath and looked at him with what felt like a broken glare.
"Are you okay?" he asked, he cared, I could tell, psychopaths couldn't care about people, could they?
"We... we need to talk." I said. Sherlock's worried expression turned to slight confusion, maybe worry? Either way I didn't really care, I was going to get the truth whether it kills me or not.
"About what?" he asked.
"Greg called me over today, and he had done research on the book, the caves, the psychopath." I added, hoping he'd get the hint. Sherlock seemed to realize what that meant, and the confidence in him seemed to seep out like a dam had broken. He sighed, looking down at the desk in front of him and didn't say anything.
"John, I..." he started.
"I don't want an apology, I want an explanation. Why wouldn't you tell me this, why didn't you tell me that I had been pouring my soul out to a mass murderer! When I first saw this book, I was terrified, I thought it did belong to a murderer, but when I met you I felt safe, I thought that it was luck, and fate, and everything good about life wrapped up in one. The first thing you should've told me was that I was about to fall in love with a murderous bloody psychopath!" The words poured out of my mouth, I couldn't even control it, I had no idea what I was saying but it definitely felt good to get it off my chest. I didn't think I was crying but I felt tears on my face, tears of rage probably, accusing him of leading me into this trap. Sherlock didn't look at me once more; it was as if he was too ashamed of himself and his twisted past. Questions swam in my head, pounding against my head. I wanted to scream them all at once, scream at him for the longest time because he deserved it.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked in a weak voice, as if it physically pained him to have this conversation.
"It's not like you could make it seem any worse." I snapped.
"Well you might as well sit down, it's a long story." He sighed. I didn't move.
"You don't have to sit next to me, we can talk through the shelves if you want, but I don't want you to hate me." he admitted.
"Then start talking." I decided. Sherlock sighed, looking out the window and pretty much everything except me. For once I wished there were other people wandering around here to make sure I wasn't going to suffer the same fate as the other six.
"Well I guess we should go all the way back then, to my Hogwarts days, I told you briefly about the crush I had right?" Sherlock asked, looking up at me for a split second. I didn't answer, but I saw in his green eyes that sort of hopelessness of a dying man. He was preparing for his death, but according to the news article he was already dead. There were also brimming tears, but his voice showed no sign of quivering.
"His name was Jim Moriarty, another Slytherin in the grade above me." It's a guy? "He was evil, and I mean that in the most literal way. His parents were all tied up with all the dark wizards and he pretty much knew every torture curse under the sun. But he was brilliant, and that was what drew me to him. I knew he was the top of the class, we didn't share any classes, but he would brag about his grades in the Great Hall. One day I decided to just go for it, admit my feelings for him and hope beyond hope that he wouldn't skin me alive. But when I told him he smiled at me, the first real smile I've ever seen on him, and said that he'd consider it. That was the first hope I ever had in my life, the hope that maybe it was okay to be happy once in a while." Sherlock paused, catching his breath or taking that extra moment to figure out what exactly he would say next.
"And then, a couple of days later, while I was walking to potions I caught him with a Gryffindor, Sebastian Moran, in the hallway. There was no doubt in my mind that they had planned that out to my schedule, just to torment me, to step on me and crush my confidence like a bug. At first I spent the days crying over myself, wondering what was wrong with me and why I wasn't worthy of him, when finally I figured it out, or at least I thought I had. It was Sebastian that was between us, the one person who wouldn't let us be together, so naturally he had to be eliminated. I waited for a while, knowing the proper spell and knowing very well that I'd be expelled if caught, even sent to Azkaban. But maybe, just maybe, if I demonstrated my knowledge on killing curses that maybe I'd cast a more positive light on myself. And one day I saw him, Moran, walking near the lake alone. I took my opportunity, running at him with my wand raised, half way through the spell when he disarmed me. That didn't stop me though; it would take a lot more for me to give up just like that."
I just kind of stared at him, kind of knowing where this was going and trying to absorb it all. So far it didn't explain why he was a psycho murderer, but I guess we were getting somewhere with the whole expelled thing.
"We fought for a little bit, hand to hand punching and strangling stuff, and he was a lot bigger than me but I had the power of pure rage on my side, and eventually I managed to drag him into the water. I held his head under for a while; I wanted him dead, I thought it would fix everything, but some bloody student had seen the fight and went to get a teacher. Snape came running down, stunning me and pulling Moran out, letting him breathe and I was expelled that night. I was shocked they didn't send me to Azkaban to be honest, but they snapped my wand and sent me to the muggle world of torture." Sherlock sighed, looking at me once more to see how I was taking the story. I was still standing there, not able to believe that this beautiful man in front of me had actually attacked someone like that. But it was out of love, apparently, and I guess if I caught someone with anyone I loved I guess I'd get a little bit violent, but not murderous. It slowly dawned on me that in my angry little speech I had subconsciously admitted that I had fallen in love with him, the words just slipped out but now, as they hung in the air, I knew them to be true. But at the moment I still was furious at all this miscommunication, in a relationship, romantic or just friends, you had to be honest, and usually little facts like you were a bloody ghost usually should come into play.
"Go on, I'm still not seeing the whole murder thing." I pointed out. Sherlock sighed.
"Why must I tell you?" he asked.
"Because I don't want secrets anymore, you see where they lead!" I debated.
"But I know that if I tell you you'll walk right out of here and throw the book as far as you can." His voice quivered with emotion for the first time, I didn't see him as much of a crier, but right now he looked like he was on the verge of breaking the emotional dam. He looked so fragile; all he had wanted was someone to love him back. But before there would be any comforting there had to be explanations.
"I won't, I only want to know what's really going on here." I sighed. Sherlock nodded, looking away once more.
"Well I suffered only a year at the school, but it was awful. I was bullied worse than I could ever imagine in Hogwarts. Yes I got hurt there, they shot curses at me there, but here it was verbal abuse. I was the one that harmed me in the muggle world; I couldn't stand constantly living under the name 'Freak'. I was smart, and they hated me for that. And the worst part here was that Jim was nowhere to be found. I'm pretty sure he hated me for what I did, but no one even came close to as interesting as he was, no one had an IQ over fifty it seemed like. Unfortunately the word leaked out that I had been expelled from a boarding school, the story was twisted so much it seemed every other day I was either killing students or snogging teachers, but somehow I got through. Then one day, the last day I had normally, after all that torment I was walking home and I saw him, Jim, walking down the street next to my house. I don't know why that snapped something, but suddenly I couldn't stand to see him. I was still convinced the whole thing with Moran was planned and he wanted to see how far I would go, he had played me for fun, he was evil, and I had fallen into his trap. So I ran into the house and grabbed my father's gun, running out before he could leave and, well, I got my revenge. But I decided that since I would be in jail for the rest of my life I might as well keep going, so I went after the bullies and the one teacher that actually let them, the teacher that laughed at their jokes and turned a blind eye to their beatings. Once that was taken care of it was almost dark, so I retrieved Moriarty's body and dragged it to the caves. It was too much John, everything was too much, and I decided that maybe I could live happy again in Hogwarts, trap my spirit and Jim's spirit in these walls and hope that maybe I deserved some ever lasting peace." Sherlock took a deep breath, and I just kind of stood there, trying to take it all in but not really able to. He had the absolute worst history I could ever imagine, love, loss, tragedy, torment; I couldn't believe it took him so ling to finally take action to be honest.
"Sherlock..." I started, but somehow couldn't find the right words. It's not like there was a sympathy card for all of that.
"Please, don't hate me." he muttered. There was silence and my brain whirled in my head, but there was nothing to decide. I may have been mad, but I didn't hate him, in fact there was something about the truthfulness that made him almost seem like a better person. The mysteries surrounding him had cleared, and I saw him for who he truly was, not some gentleman with an apple pie life, but a tortured soul only looking for redemption.
"I don't hate you." I assured, walking ever so carefully to the chair next to him and sitting down silently. He looked at me with shock, in knew he was expecting me to run for it, but I took his hand in mine and smiled reassuringly at him. "I don't hate you." I repeated, just to let the message sink in. Sherlock nodded, and I just noticed how close we really were. Our faces were barely a foot apart, both our faces shining with drying tears, our hands interlocked so that neither of us goes anywhere. I was here for him, no matter how many lives he's taken, he was still mine, and I was still his.
"I really do regret it, all of it, I should've never thought that I was able to love." He muttered.
"Oh well it's not all that bad." I pointed out.
"You may think it's all fun and games, but there's a maddening factor to it, one that I couldn't tame very well." He sighed.
"It's okay Sherlock, if you think you handle relationship stress wrong you should just see some of these reality TV shows we've got." I pointed out. that didn't cheer him up, unfortunately, he just stared through the few shards of clear glass in the window down by the lake.
"It's okay if you want to leave." he muttered, the words obviously paining him but he thought he had no other choice.
"I'd never dream of it. I already told you that I wasn't going to leave you and here I am, and I'm not going anywhere, get used to it." I shrugged, putting on a smile just so he could see that I wasn't joking with him. Sherlock looked back up at me, his green emerald eyes shining with tears.
"Maybe you're the mad one." he decided with a little laugh.
"Probably." I agreed, but leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his cheek, just like he had done to me on the Astronomy Tower. His skin was so miraculously soft, and his cheekbone was very prudent, I felt like if I'd get too close that I'd get cut or something. I felt him tense up, like he didn't think this should be happening, he was obviously shocked that I wasn't running by now.
"It's okay." I assured, leaning back ever so slightly into my chair again. There was one of those silent moods in the air, that made you want to admit all your feeling and sob together, but unfortunately he knew all my feelings now.
"Did you mean it?" he asked in a very quiet voice.
"Mean what?" I asked.
"You said that you fell in love with me." he pointed out, I could tell he was nervous to hear the answer. I took a deep breath, but nodded.
"Yes, I meant it." I assured. He looked up at me with watery eyes, a sparkle of hopeful nervousness.
"You shouldn't be." He muttered.
"Stop think of yourself as the you from the past!" I defended. "You're not a psychopath any more, I know you as this gentleman wizard not as a murderer, and I'm going to keep that impression okay?" A slight smile flashed on his lips, but it was definitely forced. I put on of my hands on his face brushing the curly bangs out of his face, something I've always wanted to do deep down. He was now forced to look at me again, and didn't get to stare at the floor or out the window or anything.
"You are a beautiful person Sherlock, smart, funny, kind, and everything in between, I think those traits outdo anything negative about you." I assured. Sherlock nodded slightly, looking into my eyes but his eyes kind of flashed down to my lips ever so slightly. I smiled one of those knowing half smiles, the ones he usually had that aggravated me so much. Sherlock seemed to want to pretend it didn't happen, as if he thought I'd kill myself if I kissed him or something.
"Sherlock?" I asked, almost as permission. Can I kiss you, can I make this right?
"Not now." He muttered. My heart sort of dropped, but I nodded. There must be a reason, a logical reason for his not letting me; I hope it wasn't just because he was scared.
"Okay. That's perfectly okay." I assured. He took a sharp breath, worried, obviously. "I'll give you some time to think okay, then we can see each other tomorrow after school." I decided. Sherlock nodded, as if he had wanted that but was too scared to ask.
"Okay, that sounds fine." He agreed.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked nervously, not wanting him to hurt himself or Hogwarts itself.
"I'll be fine, I have been before and I will be now." He assured, and I nodded. "Good bye Mr. Watson." He mumbled, and the light started to glow around him, engulfing me out of this beautiful world.