'
Hello, John.’’, says Ella with her usual soft smile. ‘’How are things doing?’’
A silence echoes inside the small visitor's room in which Ella and John are sitting. The plain and white walls of the room contrasting with the dark aluminium table fixed to the floor and the cold white neons suspended above them gives to the tiny space an illusion of an interrogation room, which is kind of the truth.
‘’I am…’’, he begins. ‘’…better, I would say…’’
She frowns her brows lightly.
‘’You would say? What’s stopping you to affirm that you’re better, John?’’
‘’I don’t really kn-…’’, he starts before Ella cuts him.
‘’I think we both know that you exactly know what’s, well, who’s stopping you…’’, she retorts. ‘’It’s you and only you. Now, go on and talk to me.’’
John lifts his eyes in her direction before looking away.
‘’I…I’ve been having dreams.’’, he says softly. ‘’About…him.’’
Ella smiles gently as he rests her elbows on the table.
‘’And who’s him?’’, she asks even if she knows the answer.
‘’Oh, please, Ella, you know exactly of who I am speaking…’’
‘’Maybe not.’’
John fall back into his chair, sighing loudly, crossing his arms before putting both of his hands on top of his knees. He looks at them quietly as Ella calls him.
‘’John…’’, she speaks. ‘’I need you to say it. You shouldn’t be scared of a name.’’
At the end of her sentence, he chokes a laugh. A sad and weak laugh.
‘’Ok, then.’’, he says. ‘’Sh… It’s Sherlock.’’
John’s eyes can’t help but to start watering as he quickly turn his head away.
‘’It’s okay, John…’, she says, putting her papers aside. ‘’Now, tell me. What’s Sherlock doing in your dreams…?’’
‘’I don’t know.’’, says John, his voice cracking as tears starts to fall down his cheeks. ‘’He’s just there…and he’s…trying to tell me something but, I can’t hear him and after that, he’s putting his hand around my throat and he just keep talking and I don’t know, Ella…’’
‘’John.’’, Ella says, stopping him. ‘’Calm down…’’
But, John doesn’t seems to be able to. His tears are unstoppable even if he tries to dry them with the left sleeve of his dark red jumper, while slightly trying to hide his face out of shame. No one should see him cry, not even Ella and now, he’s exposed at his biggest fear. The fear of being weak. The last year that John have been living has changed him so much that even him can’t recognise himself. The emotional wounds that the day left him are still open and god damn, it’s easy to hurt him. He wants all this to end, he’s tired of being a victim but, he’s not strong enough it seems to stop being it. Ella gets up and kneels in front of John.
‘’There, take this.’’, she says as she gives him a tissue. ‘’You’re gonna be okay.’’
‘’You think…?’’, says John, looking at her with his red eyes, still watering. ‘’Do I look like I’m going to be fine...?’’
‘’Talk to me, John.’’, she says, caressing his shoulders. ‘’There’s something, I know there is.’’
‘’Remember, five months ago, I’ve told you that I was ready to see Sherlock again…?’’
‘’I do remember, what is it? Did you changed your mind?’’
‘’No…’’, he sighs while pulling his sleeves to cover his hands. ‘’I’m scared, Ella.’’
‘’You shouldn’t be.’’
‘’It’s still the case though.’’
Ella’s caring grin can’t help but to be shadowed by the miserable reality. John did make progress since the beginning of their weekly consultations but, she also knows that John is brutally hurt and confused by Sherlock’s actions and she’s more than aware that both of them need the other. While reading both of them folders, she saw, black on white, that when they meet, a year ago, both changed for the better. Sherlock, who has already stopped to take drugs, haven’t made any relapses since John came into his life. Ella learned on John as well, thanks to Mycroft’s files… Isolation, trust issues and lack of social interaction was John’s life on a regular basics. He too start to get better, to go out and at least, to truth him, Sherlock Holmes. Ella wouldn’t be surprised if John would tell her that he’s the only one that he trust…or maybe more, that he trusted. She does wish that it isn’t the case. Deep inside her, she wants to see them back together, happy, like every mind and heart should be.
‘’What can I do to help you, John…?’’, she says softly. ‘’Anything. I don’t like to see you like that…’’
‘’No one can help me…’’, he answers, still trying to dry his wet cheeks. ‘’I’m a lost cause…’’
‘’We both know that isn’t true.’’, Ella tells while getting up, still in front of John. ‘’And the only person that can help you is yourself. If you do want to go back to who you were, you need to trust us, well, at least me.’’
‘’You?’’, he scoffs sadly. ‘’Aren’t I just another of your multiple patients?’’
‘’No, you’re not.’’, Ella speaks. ‘’John, to my eyes, you’re the only person that deserves all the help that I can give.’’
John got silent from Ella’s words. He knows that her words are the truth and that he should maybe accept what she’s offering to him. He just realise that if he wants to get better, he’ll need her to get over his fears.
‘’So, please, for yourself, let me help you.’’
John’s eyes went over his hands afore meeting Ella’s eyes before giving her a light smile.
‘’Thank you, Ella…’’, he says quietly as she pulls him into a hug.
The following day, John wakes up feeling a bit lighter as well as slightly better, in a way. On his last appointment with Ella, John did something he didn’t thought was possible, he opened up for the second time in his life –the first was with Sherlock for no obvious reasons-. It felt really nice to trust someone again, but even then, he’s still scared of the betrayal. It would be extremely surprising from Ella, but it also was for Sherlock before…the day. Trust is another thing that John will have to learn again…
He went out of his plain white room to put something inside his stomach. On his way, he meets the nurse of his department, Janine, who’s making her morning tour. Surprised of seeing John awake before everyone else, she walks in his direction.
‘’Good morning, dear.’’, she says, her features lightened by her large grin. ‘’Feeling like an early bird, then?’’
‘’I don’t know…’’, he replies, stopping a few meters away from her. ‘’I kind of woke up by myself.’’
‘’Oh, did you sleep well, at least?’’, she questions, her brows frowning lightly as she speaks. ‘’If you’re still tired, you can go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up for the activities.’’
‘’No, no, don’t give yourself so much trouble…’’, John tells, tilting his head slightly while looking away. ‘’I’m fine, I just wanted to know if I could go eat my breakfast now or if I’ll have to wait for the others…’’
‘’You can go now, the kitchens are already opened.’’, she says. ‘’In 10 minutes or now, it doesn’t change anything.’’
‘’Thanks.’’
‘’You’re welcome.’’, she says, walking pass him. ‘’See you later, John.’’
‘’See you too…’’, he ends softly as he continues his walk to the cafeteria.
When he first arrived in here, John never lived like he is now. Schedules, group activities, weekly psychotherapies, distanced school, all of this was new to him, but now, it’s his everyday routine for a year. He’s not pleased, he’s often bored and he does miss his friends and having a normal teenage boy’s life. But, instead of blubbering over these facts, he prefers to accept the changes and live with it. He does want to go back to his mother who’s now back from Canada, his sister –even if he doesn’t like her much-, his grandmother and Sarah. He still gets to see them once in a while due to the two visits a month he allowed to have, but even with that, it isn’t enough to fill the loneliness he’s living in.
They don’t exactly know why John is stocked in an institution but, every single one of them knows it related to Sherlock’s arrival in John’s life. His mother and sister hates and blames him for his current state, his grandmother doesn’t quite understand how all of this happened and for Sarah, she suspects that Sherlock did something to him and that this thing is the actual reason why John is ‘locked up’.
Sarah seems to always know and John can’t deny that seeing her smile makes him forget the harsh reality. She’s obviously worried about him since, most of the time, she’s the one coming to see him, bringing him bakeries, CDs, books. She also helps him with school when she comes, so John keeps on getting good grades while he’s away and don’t worry that he is. He never had such good results before. Maybe due to Sarah’s help or to the fact that he has literally nothing else to do than studying. When he will get out of the institute, John still wants to go in Medicine to become a doctor after all. Bad situations never last long.
He arrives into the empty cafeteria before walking to the serving counter with a silver tray. The kitchen lady saw him from afar before stepping towards him.
‘’Oh, good morning, laddie.’’, Helena says of a well-pronounced Scottish accent, a bright tan orange hair ghosting in front of her blue eyes. ‘’First one to arrive to the finish line!’’
‘’It seems that I am.’’, he replies.
Helena has been working at the institute for 15 years, as John remembers. She’s a bountiful middle-aged lady who has an easy talk with everything that can communicate. She’s extremely funny and loves to joke around. Thing that is appreciated by the staff and patients. None can be sad when they speak to this blooming of happiness woman. She has a sweet assistant, who’s much younger than she is, named Rose. She sometimes has a left hand for the right –don’t you worry that Helena lets her know- but, she does her thing right and has the finest skills when it comes to cooking.
‘’What can I offer you, by this wonderful early day?’’, she says, pulling out a small piece of paper out of her right pocket. ‘’Whatever you want, I can make it.’’
‘’Or I can make it!’’, chuckles Rose, passing behind Helena. ‘’Hi, John.’’
‘’Oi, Oi, Oi! Don’t you dare try to be better than the master, young silly thing!’’, she yells to Rose as she quickly walks away.
John chuckles, his cheeks darken slightly, as Rose winks at him. She does is a charming and adorable young girl. Her angular features, chocolate curly hair and grey eyes gives her a mystic and unique energy, who has made effect into John’s eyes. He thinks that she might be a bit older than he is but, anyway, it doesn’t changes things much. She’s simply a pretty girl who John likes to see smile.
‘’Houston? Are you still there?’’, Helena calls, snapping her fingers in front of John’s face. ‘’Don’t let the young devil put his hand on top of the lamb, will you? Tell me what you want to eat before I change my mind.’’
‘’Y-yes, sure…’’, John stutters a tad. ‘’Actually, give me whatever you like…’’
‘’You sure?’’
‘’Absolutely.’’
‘’Ok, then.’’, says Helena. ‘’It’s going to be a fruit pancakes, twice, bacon and maple syrup, is that okay for you?’’
‘’It’s perfect, Helena.’’, John says timidly, walking away. ‘’Thank you…’’
‘’Actually, John, don’t tell anyone about this…’’, she begins. ‘’It’s going to be our secret.’’
‘’Sure.’’, John replies, thanking her again. ‘’I’ll be in the corner, next to the window, then…’’
‘’Off you go!’’, she waves him away.
John made his way to the place he told Helena he would be, which is next to the window, in the corner of the cafeteria. He likes that spot because when he sits there, no one comes to irk him. He sits down slowly, looking around at the empty room before turning his stare at the window. Pearls of rain running down the glass, the everlasting greyish sky flooding on top of the institution’s center garden, who’s filled with bushes and one huge fake pond. He lifts his wrist to check his watch, 8:23A.M. No one is going to come in here before an hour or something, he’ll have time to rest his mind and forget about this place. He closes his eyes, letting his back hits his seat slowly.
He can hear from the kitchen the clanking of casseroles and Helena’s accent echoing from afar as well as the calming sound of wind and birds’ whistling. It reminders to him sweet memories from his childhood, even if he has few of it. He can visualise the afternoon that his parents, sister and he went to Bloomsbury, have a walk. He can recalls that afterward they went in a park and sat down there to have breakfast. He had such a good day that day… A feeling he fears to never feel again.
‘’Pancakes and tea for Mister. John!’’, exclaims Rose as she puts simultaneously John’s plate and cup on the table, making him jumps of surprise.
‘’Wow, you scared the heck out of me…’’
‘’Oh my god, I am really sorry.’’, she apologies. ‘’I didn’t mean to.’’
‘’It’s fine…’’, John says, scratching the side of his neck. ‘’Would you mind to thank Miss.Helena again for the breakfast? …It was really nice of her.’’
‘’I don’t mind.’’, she replies softly as she puts a loose hair behind her right ear, staring at him of her breath-taking blueish grey eyes. ‘’It would be my pleasure actually.’’
They both stares at the other for a few before her features changes into a more melancholic expression. The energy that this girl has can’t help to reminder him Sherlock… Obviously, Rose could almost be a female version of him and John knows but doesn’t care at all, he does enjoy having her around.
‘’D-Do you mind if I sit down a bit?’’, she asks even if her hand is already pulling the seat from the under the table, looking at the kitchen to check if Helena’s away. ‘’And do eat your pancakes, silly.’’
‘’Yeah, I will but, I almost feel bad of eating such good food while the others are going to eat a regular breakfast-…’’, John stops as Rose’s slim fingers stoles from his plate a strawberry before putting it in her mouth while grinning at John’s surprised features proudly.
‘’I told you to eat the damn pancakes and you didn’t listened to me…’’, she says. ‘’So, I guess that it was a way to tell me that you needed help, right?’’
And obviously, she is sarcastic and absolutely knows that it wasn’t the case. John can’t help but to grin at her delighted face before taking a bite from his plate.
‘’Oh, wow.’’, he exclaims. ‘’’This is wonderful.’’
‘’Really?’’, she says, tilting her head.
‘’Yes, definitely.’’, he tells between two bites. ‘’Probably the best breakfast I had in the last year.’’
‘’Well, thank you.’’, Rose speaks softly, looking up at John’s eyes. ‘’I made it.’’
John stops chowing for half a second before swallowing his morsel. Rose chuckles lightly while her cheeks changes into a delicate shade of pink. John smile at his turn before slicing of his knife another small part of his pancake. Rose observes him take his bite while resting her head inside her palm. John finishes his plate few minutes later, under the stare of Rose, before taking a large sip of his cup of tea, humming at the perfect infusion. He looks at Rose to finally notice that she’s staring at him since a long time. He feels an unexpected heat creep its way on his neck while putting his cuppa back on the light wood table.
‘’W-What is it…?’’, he says, his voice cracking slightly.
‘’You seems too much like a normal boy to be here…’’, Rose begins.
‘’Do I?’’, replies John, his voice suddenly shifting into a more sad tone. ‘’…Wish I was, though.’’
Rose didn’t reply to John’s last words. Instead, she simply smiles at him, turning her head towards the large window.
‘’Tell me, John…’’, she says. ‘’…Can I ask you a question?’’
He lightly frowns his brows before putting his empty plate aside.
‘’I guess, yes.’’, starts John. ‘’What do you want to know…?’’
Rose looks down for a few before lifting her stare in John’s direction, in the same way Sherlock used to do.
‘’Why are you here, John?’’, she asks. ‘’I know it’s an indiscreet question since I’m almost a stranger to you but, I wanted to know how a boy like you ended up here…’’
‘’Well, it’s complicated…’’, John says softly. ‘’I’m not sure you want to know.’’
‘’And, what if I do?’’
‘’You don’t want to know what happened me, Rose…’’, John says. ‘’If I tell you, your day is going to be ruined and I don’t want to make your day a mess…’’
Rose sighs loudly, failing backwards into the chair. She looks up at John before putting a elbow on the side of the table.
‘’Ok, then…’’, she speaks. ‘’Let’s do a trade, shall we?’’
‘’A trade…?’’
‘’Yes, a history for another.’’, Rose explains. ‘’Is that okay for you?’’
‘’I guess…’’
‘’Good.’’, she smiles gently. ‘’I’ll break the ice.’’
John, a bit confused, waits for Rose to start her storytelling by folding his arms around himself. Why does Rose has so much interest about what happened to him? Like she said, she’s almost a stranger, why care about the story of a stranger? They do share this weird bond but, is that enough for them to talk about how he got here? John doesn’t really know how to make up with it. So, he guess that he’ll live with it and try to ‘’play the game’’…
‘’When I was younger, my family had this old house where we used to go every summer for a month. My brother and I used to play in the backyard, who was heading to a large river, and search for little animals and insects. It was a lot of fun as I remember…’’, she tells. ‘’One day, there was a huge storm outside but even then, we were both still there playing and mimicking that we were pirates fighting monsters of the sea. At some point, my mother got worried and asked us to get inside but, we didn’t. My father got a bit frustrated and went outside to get us but, my brother and I wouldn’t hear anything. We were having way too much fun to get inside…’’
‘’What happened afterwards?’’, John asks.
‘’As I told you, my father went outside to get us but, we were too stubborn to listen to him. We started to run towards the front of the house to hide in the bushes, I stopped, but my brother didn’t.’’, she explains. ‘’My father didn’t as well. Both of them crossed the road and my brother got hit by a car and died 45 minutes afterwards.’’
A small silence surrounds Rose and John before John speaks.
‘’I am so sorry…’’, he says. ‘’You weren’t forced to tell me this, Rose…’’
‘’I don’t mind, John…’’, she says. ‘’I’m over it, in a way. He’s dead, but I didn’t forget him.’’
‘’What was his name?’’
‘’John.’’, she tells, a melancholic grin ghosting her features. ‘’His name was John McKenzie…’’
John silently sits in front of Rose’s sorrowful person before getting closer to the table.
‘’I was walking home that night and as usual, I took alleyways, since it’s faster because it was raining…’’
‘’It’s not safe, the alleyways.’’, Rose says.
‘’I know, but I always did it and nothing ever happened to me.’’, John tells. ‘’But, that night, something did happened and I can’t decide if it was a good or bad thing.’’
‘’What happened?’’
‘’A boy laying in a pond of his own blood…’’, John says, closing his eyes, remembering the event. ‘’I wouldn’t have found him if it wasn’t of the fact that I did turn in that particular alley…’’
‘’Did you call the police?’’, asks Rose, her voice tinted by an unknown, kind of serious tone.
‘’I did, but I was so scared, Rose…’’, John tells, opening his eyes. ‘’I was scared that this boy dies in front of me.’’
‘’But, he didn’t.’’
‘’He didn’t.’’, he replies. ‘’When I found him, he looked at me, grabbed my coat and I asked him if he was okay, if he could hear me… He replied at my biggest relief that yes, he could. I can remember that he stared at me, but his eyes, they looked at me with this tranquillity and calmness that someone laying in his blood shouldn’t have. I knew in that moment that this boy has this…special little something that I would never find in anyone else. I asked him what his name was and…’’
‘’What’s his name?’’, Rose’s voice speaks.
John stares at Rose for a few before passing his left hand on top of the empty cup of tea next to him.
‘’His name is Sherlock.’’, John mutters loud enough so that Rose would understand.
Rose’s grin reappears on her pale face.
‘’I never heard such a name before.’’
John smiles back at her.
‘’Me either.’’
‘’It’s beautiful, yet mysterious.’’, she thinks out loud. ‘Unique.’’
‘’He’s kind of like that as well.’’, John chuckles. ‘’I never thought that someone like him even existed…and that’s why, after the ambulance came to get him, I looked out for him.’’
‘’Wow, you were really captivated…’’
‘’Yeah, I’m a big creep, it seems.’’, John jokes causing to Rose to laughs lightly. ‘’Anyway, I found the hospital where he was and went to see him. The staff were so surprised to see someone asking to see him that they actually let me.’’
‘’Why that?’’, she questions, her brows frowning.
‘’Let’s say that Sherlock doesn’t really like humans in general, so he doesn’t really…respects them?’’, John tries to explain. ‘’I was intimated when I came into his room and said hi… He actually looked at me with the ‘what are you doing here’ look. He also recognized me, which was another big surprise.’’
Rose listened to John’s words closely, obviously interested, a gentle smile ghosting her lips.
‘’What happened next?’’
‘’We actually spoke for a good 45 minutes before I went home. He told me about scientific stuffs that I would’ve never know if it wasn’t of him.’’, John says. ‘’It’s weird though because we spoke like if we knew each other for years… It’s nice because that day, I met my best friend…’’
Rose rests her head into her hand, her smile disappearing from her features.
‘’…But?’’
John’s hands folds into the other as he stares at them blankly. Flashes of the morning slowly making their way to John’s consciousness. As he’s trying to keep his breathing patterns down, Rose’s soft hand appears on top of John’s, taking it gently. She calls his name and asks him to look at her. John did and immediately making him put his dark memories aside.
‘’The way you speak of him, John, is the way of someone who has been broken…’’, Rose’s words tells. ‘’…and someone who loves from the deepest of his heart...’’
John’s eyes close themselves again, now imagining brightest memories of his friend. He can remember the way he spoke, expressed himself and saw things surrounding him. How much of a man he was. A brilliant, admirable and gorgeous creature. How his eyes flicked colors when he spoke, how tall he was when they were walking side by side. How many times that they simply stared at the other silently, the time that he hugged him, thinking that something happened to him. How much he had felt comfortable inside his arms, how he liked feeling his large hands passing through his hair. John can remember the time when they first kissed, how he just simply let Sherlock kissed him, not minding at all. He can remember the second time as well…
He can remember clearly that he was the one making the first move, that he was the one that wanted to, more needed to feel Sherlock. Into the darkness of that small closet, John felt like he wouldn’t be scared of Sherlock’s reaction since he couldn’t see his face and the disapproval in his eyes. He dared to put everything he stands for aside in order to kiss him again, by pure and simple selfishness. He can recall the softness of Sherlock’s curls passing through his fingers, how he could feel his pulse against his lips as he kissed his neck. John spoke to him that night, he can recall the exact words, ‘’you drive me mad.’’. And truth, it is and he thinks that the feeling was mutual. He could feel Sherlock’s walls fall under each kiss he gave him, how Sherlock silently groaned his name in the obscurity. How Sherlock gave him back what he just had done after John thought that he pushed him back because he felt molested. But, he did not… He did not and will remember that, not to say that somewhere, deep inside him, he wishes that Sherlock still feels the same.
‘’I don’t know what he has done to you, and I don’t want you to tell me just because you feel like you should.’’, she says. ‘’But John, for your own sake, for whatever he has done, you’ll need to forgive him.’’
‘’How would you know that I should…?’’, John mutters.
‘’We should always forgive the one that we love.’’, she ends, smiling softly.
On these words, Rose gets up and silently takes the empty dishes into her hands. She turns her head toward John, giving him the brightest smile that you could.
‘’They weren’t mistaking about you…’’, she speaks.
‘’Sorry…?’’
‘’You’re a clever boy, John.’’, she grins.
‘’They…?’’, John asks.
She keeps her mouth shut as she walks away from him, leaving him alone as Helena’s voice calls for Rose. He would have done something else but, he knew that it would bring nowhere. He sighs to himself before getting up as well, heading towards the door as the others enters to have their breakfasts. He walks next to Janine, who smiles in his direction before slowing making his way to his room, his mind filled with memories of someone he thought gone forever. His mysterious and beloved ‘alley-way’ boy…
Murder, unlawful premeditated killing of a human being by a human being, kill intentionally and with premeditation.
‘’It has been a while, Sherlock.’’, she says, closing the door behind him.
Ella’s office didn’t changed much since the last time he came to see her. The large windows illuminates the room in the most delicate way as the curtains dances to every touch of the wind. The same two chairs facing each other, the scratched glass coffee table placed in the middle of them, dusty diplomas hanged on the walls. Nothing has changed, not even Ella’s smile, still radiating happiness even though she has a lot of paperwork to do. Her desk is filled with them as well as a dark brown vase dressed of crimson red roses with a small note resting next to it.
‘’You’re back with your boyfriend as I can see.’’
‘Yes, I am and I’m quite happy about it.’’, she says, smiling to herself. ‘’Please, take a seat.’’
They both sits down and Ella silently takes her notepad resting at the edge of her desk, before returning her attention on Sherlock. She doesn’t need to comment Sherlock’s deductions habit because Ella understands that it is stronger than him. It would be pointless to tell him to stop.
‘’How was it?’’
Ella’s voice echoes into her office, followed by a long silence. Typical reaction when she asks a question to Sherlock, who usually doesn’t want to participate and simply reply.
‘’How was what?’’
‘’The notebook.’’, she says. ‘’I know you finished it…’’
Sherlock looks at her for a few seconds before answering.
‘’Yes, and?’’
‘’Well, I simply wanted to know how you’re feeling about it…’’
‘’Obviously.’’, Sherlock replies bitterly.
‘’Are you going to answer or just sit there, acting like if you were stupid by not wanting to cooperate?’’
Sherlock’s upper lip twitches upward, a bit insulted, his mind suddenly submerged by one simple thought, ‘’I am not stupid.’’. He knows that Ella isn’t shy to let him know what she’s thinking but, no, he isn’t going to sit there and be called ‘stupid’.
‘’Fine, what do you want to know, Ella?’’, he says sharply, exaggerating her name at the end of his sentence. ‘’Must be fascinating to know what’s going on in my head, isn’t it?’’
‘’Actually, yes.’’, she says, still calm. ‘’It is, and please, Sherlock, we both know that you’re not stupid. So, tell me, I haven’t read it and I would like very much to know what’s it contain, if you don’t mind.’’
‘’I don’t really want to talk about it…’’
‘’Fine with me.’’, she replies. ‘’But, for your own sake, tell me how you’re feeling right now.’’
Sherlock looks at his hands, remembering that they once almost killed his only friend. He shakes his head slightly, trying to chase the dark flash from a year ago. He still can’t believe that he did such a thing to John. What kind of friend is he? The worst ever, surely…
‘’I am…a shame to do not suffer more for what I have done to him…’’, Sherlock tells, himself even surprised of the words he just spoke. ‘’Look at me, Ella. I’m free, and he’s surely lock into some kind of hospital or something. This is unfair... He’s not the one that deserves a cell…’’
Ella writes on her pad as Sherlock finishes his sentence before looking up again at him.
‘’You don’t feel punished?’’, she asks. ‘’Didn’t you hate being in the house of your brother? You once said that you felt like if you were in a cage when you were living there… Does that affirmation changed?’’
‘’In a way, yes.’’, Sherlock begins. ‘’Living at my brother’s house wasn’t nice, but…’’
‘’But?’’
‘’But, the law is the law and I escaped it because of my brother…’’, Sherlock explains. ‘’I don’t think that it equals where John is… Wherever he is…’’
A small silence surrounds the room as Ella continues writing on her pad, a smile ghosting her features. Sherlock’s left hand places itself in front of his mouth nervously, giving him the urge to nibble his nails. It’s new for him, all this. He never really felt stress before in his life, anxiety. He wishes that he could do something about it, but he doesn’t really know where to start. He still has difficulties to put names on his feelings because of his Asperger syndrome, even though he have made a lot of progress about it. He can’t deny that the person that helped him the most with it, although he didn’t even knew about his syndrome, was John. Compared to the majority of people in his life, John was the only one to accept him the way he really was and still is, without judgement.
That small detail made it all different, Sherlock could actually feel, for the first time, acceptation. The months that they had together before what happened were the only times that Sherlock felt like he had someone watching his back. Of course, there was Mycroft, but come on, he’s just watching Sherlock because he’s an absolute over-protective brother. Sherlock has been, for the most of his life, apathetic of his surrounding, emotionally speaking, but with John, there was this instant connection. Sherlock knew at the exact moment that John kneeled next to him in that dark alleyway that they were meant to be…together, whatever the way. But, now, it’s all gone and God knows how he’ll manages to get him back…
‘’I’m impressed, I must say.’’, Ella speaks.
‘’About what…?’’, Sherlock asks, still a bit inside his head.
‘’You are impressing me.’’
Sherlock’s brows frowns.
‘’What have I done again?’’, he says uncertainly.
‘’You’ve made quite alluring progress, I’m stunned!’’, Ella speaks.
‘’I’m sorry, what?’’, Sherlock replies, surprisedly not understanding what Ella’s words means.
‘’Don’t you realised that you actually spoke about your emotions?’’
Sherlock sinks into his chair, a blank expression on his face. He looks away, feeling something he could compare to embarrassment. Ella calls his name and he turns his head back towards her.
‘’You’ve changed so much in one year, Sherlock.’’, she begins. ‘’But, the reason why you did wasn’t good for you…’’
‘’What do you mean?’’
‘’I think, and this is me speaking very seriously, that what you did to John one year ago, whatever people said, wasn’t you.’’, Ella says sincerely. ‘’I know you, you couldn’t do anything to him. That day, you weren’t conscious of your doings. You claim to do not remember the events clearly, isn’t that the truth?’’
‘’Yes, it is.’’, Sherlock replies, almost whispering, staring down at his hands. ‘’I can only remember…a few things…’’
‘’See, we could work with that, at your advantage.’’, Ella tells, slowly bending in direction of Sherlock. ‘’John doesn’t want to remember but, he did told me a few things as well. Even with that, we’ll never know what triggered your actions and I know that you know, deep inside you why you did it. If we work together, Sherlock, we could make this all end-…’’
‘’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!’’, Sherlock shouts, making Ella sits back deep into her chair.
She can see him, the usually so stoic boy, breaking into shreds and tears. Searching for air, searching for a way out, he gets up, leaving his coat behind him and runs towards the door. Ella gets up and catches his arm before turning him, facing her, as she holds him by the shoulders. Her hold is surely the only thing that is holding on around the poor boy’s life right now, he doesn’t deserve that. All of that pain, all of that sadness. Even if he does deserves it, he never has been the bad person. Under all these mean words, glares and insults to everyone around him, he’s simply a lost black sheep… Put aside since ever, living in constant loneliness, he had found someone to guide him, after all these years. The only friend he ever had, lost, mentally injured and his heart darken by the broken mind. What could he have done to keep him when no one ever showed him how? The tragedy is never ending and at the end of play, everyone is hiding in the rain, crying without knowing.
‘’I am a murderer…’’, he says.
‘’No, you’re not.’’, Ella cuts, gently stroking his shoulders. ‘’You killed no one.’’
‘’Lies, Ella.’’
‘’I’m sorry…? What lies?’’
‘’I may not have killed him physically, but I did psychologically…’’, Sherlock tells, his eyes drowned into darkness. ‘’What kind of friend would do that…’’
‘’I will not excuse what you did, but we all made mistakes and actions we wishes we could take back, Sherlock.’’, she explains. ‘’Now, to be forgiven by John, you first need to forgive yourself.’’
Sherlock looks at Ella for a few, wiping his last tears before straightening himself. She can clearly see that he’s embarrassed of what just happened as he removes her hands from his shoulders. He closes his eyes before opening them again revealing his normal stare, calculating and observant blue. He walks back to his chair, sitting down slowly. Ella follows his actions and does the same. She never has seen Sherlock that nervous before, he’s cracking, emotions dripping down his fissures. Because of his anti-social personality, all of this doesn’t makes sense to him since he never understood the concept of feelings. He’s walking down a road he never went on before and it’s understandable that he’s frightened and lost, anyone would be. Technically, it would be a good thing for a sociopath to finally recognise emotions but, right now, for Sherlock, it’s just making his everyday life harder. But, it is also true that life is hard and that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It will apply to Sherlock one day and he’ll get out of this as a winner.
‘’I want to you to know that I will do everything in my power to force my superiors to accept your request to see John. You need that and I will give it to you.’’, she tells, leaning toward Sherlock. ‘’I think that you had your punishment and that you understand the gravity of what you’ve done…’’
‘’I couldn’t agree more…’’, he whispers, looking down.
‘’I will do everything I can and I mean it. I won’t let you down and this is a promise’’, she says. ‘’I will personally call Mycroft and the institution where John is to make sure that it will happen.’’
Sherlock looks up, his eyes widen by surprise.
‘’You…would do that…for me?’’, he voices.
‘’Yes.’’, Ella speaks. ‘’I am doing it for you and John. You two deserves to be together, I’ve sincerely never seen such powerful friendship before and I think it’s beautiful… You are allowed to be happy again. ’’
And then, silence. Ella’s office becomes complete silence. Hearing his own pulse, feeling the soft wind touching his skin, Sherlock can feel like… He doesn’t quite know but, he could say that he’s feeling like he finally have what he has been wishing for the past year. Knowing Ella’s determination, he knows that what she just said is going to happen soon. He’s happy, yet scared to a point where he can feel his shivers through his bones and nerves. Sherlock never thought about how frighten he would get when he’ll see John and right now, he is and that’s scaring him even more. He had stop breathing for the past minute and he haven’t noticed it until now, this is it.
‘’Ella, I don’t know how to thank you…’’
‘’Then, don’t.’’
Sherlock smiles to her, surely for the first time since they meet and Ella knows that, smiling at her turn. He gets up, grabbing his coat and scarf before heading towards the door. He’s breathing but it feels different, it feels like he never breathe before. Reborn is the only word he have in mind. He feels like he has a purpose again, that he’s back from the dead. Ella calls his name behind him which made him turn around.
‘’It won’t be easy, meeting him after a year…’’
‘’I know.’’, he says. ‘’I’ve never expected it to be easy…’’
‘’I want you to be ready for it, Sherlock…’’
‘’Of course, Ella…’’, Sherlock tells, putting his leather gloves at the same time. ‘’But, even if I do prepare myself for it, I’ll never be when I get in front of him…’’
‘’Then, one last thing…’’, she gets up slowly as speaking. ‘’Take care, Sherlock Holmes.’’
‘’I will.’’, he replies softly.
He opens the door and he is gone. Ella walks behind her desk, grabbing at her phone, dialling numbers. She waits a few seconds before the other end of the line answers her call.
‘’M.Holmes, he is ready.’’
Next of the temples of Inspector Greg Lestrade, the hair is turning grey. Actually, his whole division at Scotland Yard are turning insane from the amount of paperwork, reports that they have to fill. On Greg's desk, there's two piles of documents when there's usually three. Good thing you would say but, the first pile is all the not-solved cases and the second is the current open cases. When Greg is sitting at his desk, the only thing you can see of him from the outside of his office is his god damn grey temples and god, he hates them.
Stupid temples.
That's the current life of Greg Lestrade; overtime, unsolved cases and his hair turning even greyer. The words he was writing down in his report of the team efficiency starts to look like weird little drawings between two black lines. He drops his pen dramatically while throwing himself backwards against the back of his chair on which his coat was resting. He passes both of his hands on top of his eyes, sighing in groan. Headaches are going to be the end of him, what time is it now? He finds the strength to extend his left wrist in front of his face to look at his silver and scratched wristwatch. 10:47 P.M., but strangely, he can still hear the rest of his team working on the other side of the door of his office.
"Maybe I should go home...", he whispers to himself.
No, he can't do that, not now. There's way too much work to be completed. What is he going to do? He looks at the big two piles on his desk, opening the top document just to check the name of the case.
"Not even my division.", he says, annoyed.
His complain was interrupt by Sandy Donovan, who knocked twice before entering inside Greg's office, her arms filled with a box, named "Mordecai Smith", surely filled with reports, documents and evidences.
"Greg, the lead on the clothing in the stream bring nowhere, so, the case of Neville St.Clair is still open. Mrs.St.Clair came two hours ago, crying by the way, about us doing nothing to find her husband. Basically, she thinks he's dead and she's blaming us.”, she says in a sigh.
"Oh god... Is she planning to file a claim or something?"
"Maybe, I don't know."
"... Great.", he says, taking his pen to write that down on a post-it to add it to the file later. "Anything else?"
"Nope.", she says as she gets away but quickly, she puts her feet to stop the door from closing, making her head re-entering the room. "Oh, yes, actually! Just to let you know, Tobias Gregson stole you the Dr. Grimesby Roylott case."
"Oh, the bastard! He did not?!"
"Hum!", she says, finally leaving, in a simple humming.
Gregson, oh, him! He throws angrily his favourite black pen against his desk, causing it to bounce to the floor. He stands still for a few minutes before forcing himself to continue his work. He took the files that he was examining earlier and notice a mistake in the report of the ballistic department. He quickly dial the number before waiting a good five minutes to speak to someone.
"Yeah-, hello? This is Inspector Greg Lestrade from Scotland Yard. I'm calling for the case F-7621D, the Ferrier case. Ok, yes. Well, there has been a major error in the report files... What do you mean 'you mess up the gun for another one'?", he says, anger ghosting inside his voice. "What?! That's ridiculous! Why didn't you rewrite the report!? No- No, you listen to me, laddie. That's big bullshit. Now, you start this thing over and- hello? Hello? Oh, fuck you, mate."
He hangs up, furious of the incompetence and unprofessionalism of the whole Scotland Yard recently. He doesn't know what to do about it, but it's starting to be a real issue. Should he called him… He rests his chin on his left hand for a few seconds before grabbing his phone and dial the personal number of someone that he called a long time ago.
"Hello.", says the voice of a serious and everlasting arrogant tone.
"Hey...", says Lestrade, quietly. "It's…um... It's Greg."
The line stays silent for a few seconds.
"Yes, Greg, good evening.", he replies. "Still at Scotland Yard?"
"Uh, yeah, I, uh, have problem with, uh, a case. Well, actually, I have problems with all of my cases but, hey, that's the job....", Greg explains quickly, to forget the awkwardness of the situation. "How about you? What have you been up to...?"
"Busy.", says the voice, coldly.
"Ok...", silence again. "Did you... Am I disturbing you because I can... call back, if you want...?"
"No, Greg. You're not calling at the wrong moment.", he says, too slowly. "Anyway, how can I help you?"
"Well, actually, there's a lot of cases on which I would require your-...", Greg suddenly stop talking.
"You would require my...?", repeats the voice.
"You... You're not..."
"I am, what?", says the voice more sharply.
"You're not mad at me, right...?"
"Why would I be?", says the voice, tinted by sass.
"We haven't seen each other in a while and I'm sorry, Mycroft.", he tells, rubbing his eyes with two fingers, frowning his brows. "I've been stock in Scotland in overtime since forever..."
"I see.", Mycroft replies, coldly.
"I did meant to call you, Mycroft..."
"I...see.", he says, extending each letters for a good ten seconds. "What do you need from me?"
Lestrade realised that he will have to deal with Mycroft later and get this work done. He begins.
"Scotland Yard, as you surely know by now, is knee-deep into shit. We can't get any help from anyone because they are too busy.", Lestrade explains. "So, I thought maybe that you...could...help...us?"
The line went silent again.
"Hello?", says Greg.
"I am still there.", says Mycroft, his voice slowed by his current train of thoughts.
"Ok, great... I really need help, Mycroft, and I need someone I can trust that's why I thought of you."
"Oh, really? Why me?"
"No one’s better at solving crimes than a Holmes."
Silence, but this time, Greg knows that, even if he didn't wanted to, Mycroft is smiling on the other side of the telephone.
"I'm going to help you, Greg, but at one condition."
"Yeah, what is it?"
"I need you to trust me."
Greg frowns his brows.
"I always trusted you, Mycroft."
"Then, I'm going to send you the help of someone you well know."
"And who's that?"
"Sherlock Holmes."
Greg fells shivers going through his spine, did he hear well? It must have been months, well, a year since he last heard the name of Sherlock Holmes, he almost thought that he was dead, at some point. After all that happened, he almost wonders if that’s legal for Sherlock to help him. Mycroft sighs inside his telephone set. How are they even going to proceed his return?
"Greg, he's going to be under my responsibility and you will not give him any information related to John Watson or Jim Moriarty, unless I tell it’s okay.", Mycroft explains without emotions. "He's going to be there to help you only with the cases that I allow him to, if he tries to peek inside other files than them, I'll deal with him myself. Am I clear?"
Greg always hates Mycroft when he speaks that way, he’s not a robot, for God's sakes. He knows Mycroft and he's not like that usually, but when it comes to Sherlock, he can't help but to overprotect him.
"Don't you think that you're a bit over doing it...?"
"Doing what?"
"Well, aren't Sherlock nineteen now? He's a grownup, I think he's clever enough to be independent of what he does with his own life.", Lestrade tells more to himself than to Mycroft. It's not an easy thing to face a Holmes. "Don't you think?"
"...Maybe, you are partly right on that point.", Mycroft slowly exhales.
"I always trusted you, why don't you try too, you insecure git?"
"Uh, excuse you. I'm not insecure."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not."
"Of course, you're not, stupid. And yes, you are stupid."
"Whatever.", Mycroft ends abruptly, making Lestrade lightly laughs to himself. "Anyway, we'll continue this 'conversation' later and I'll call you about Sherlock. Until then, good luck, Greg..."
"Thank you.", he says. "And, Mycroft, I was wondering if you would like to go and have a drink-…’’
But, the line has already been cut. The bastard, Greg smiles to himself while putting the telephone back at his place before continuing his paperwork until the early hours of the following day.
*
On the other side of the phone, Mycroft Holmes, his light eyes looking outside the almost full moon contrasting the dark sky of the night, rests in the hollow silence of his house. He takes his cellphone and text his younger brother, knowing that he is surely not sleeping.
Hello, brother mine. I have good news for you.
Call me when you get this or when you feel like doing so. But, do hurry, you won't regret it.
You’re back to work.
-MH
He knows that he's going to regret this but, Sherlock needs it. He needs to be on a crime scene, that's where he's at his best. He needs to live and Mycroft has decided to let him go, whatever the price to pay.