literature

Just 7% [johnlock]

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Literature Text

It had been such a cold morning. The whole day was cold in fact. Cold, boring…lonely. Sherlock would never admit it to a single living soul but he too experienced the sense of loneliness. That sense of seclusion and the sense that nobody would even consider talking to you because of who you are. What you are. Sherlock just wanted to feel warm again, feel his blood pump through his veins again. Not a single case had come in for days and as every day passed the detective began to feel more and more worthless. He just needed that small spark of happiness. That quick high.
 
It was only a 7% solution but god it felt good. Each heart beat could be felt and a warmth returned to his body again. The problem with a high though is that it’s always continued by a dramatic low – an unbearable low. Unless you top up of course-
 
Sherlock reached to the small fabric case he’d placed on the side and fiddled around for a fresh needle which had already been prepared a while back. The liquid which flowed inside was clear with the small hint of cloudiness.  His sleeve already rolled up and his veins already pulsing, Sherlock wrapped his slender hand round the toxic filled plastic slowly moving it over to his ready arm.
“Having fun there are we?” Sherlock’s head jolted up, wide eyed and spun his head round trying to find the source of the voice.
“You always act so confident…That’s it though; it’s just an act.” The voice seemed to be gliding closer. Gliding. The soft notes of a feminine voice surfed along through the air and whispered into Sherlock’s ear.
“Irene?” Whimpered the confused detective. A misty figure appeared before him, lips pursed and her hair was flowing down her right shoulder. Hesitantly, Sherlock reached his hand out, however,  the figure simply disappeared into a puff of smoke.
 
Sherlock tried to think nothing about what he thought he saw and desperately tried to continue with his job. The needle had almost pierced through the skin when her voice had cooed out. Once again the stainless steel touched his skin yet another voice distracted him.
“Call yourself a Holmes? You’re a disgrace! “It was recognisably Mycroft’s booming voice filled with disapproval. This time the ghost like figure could be seen straight away but that just made things worse – his own brother was turning his nose up against him.
“I…I can’t help it…” Sherlock paused leaning forward from his previous slumped position, “Where were you though!? You always blame me don’t you! Have you ever thought to help?!” Tears of anger began to form in Sherlock’s bloodshot eyes and his whole body was shaking due to being angry yet scared at the same time. Sadly there was no answer from the ‘brother’, just silence.
 
Sweat started to dribble down the skittish man who sat in the front room alone. He couldn't take this any more, it was overwhelming! This was when everything started popping up all over the shop; luminous rabbits began to dart around the room, spiders were crawling out of every hole and bodies, one by one, began to drop from the ceiling.
“STOP IT!” Sherlock blurted out all of a sudden pushing himself off the chair at the same time.
“Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop-“ With a sharp gasp of air he began to cry like he’d never done before. Ashamed of the outburst he grabbed the sides of his head and started clawing at his scalp.
“Why?!” He cried out collapsing onto the hard floor and pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Sherlock?!” Suddenly John appeared in the door way, however, he was static unlike the all the other things floating round the room. He was fully coloured too. He was real.
 
John’s first idea was to look over to the side and the sight choked him immensely. The discarded syringe lay motionless on top of the fabric case along with a tight elastic band. Sherlock was still curled up on the floor; however, he’d lowered his head and was muttering to himself.  Tentatively, John edged towards to his friend who was literally breaking apart in front of him.
“Sherlock…What have you done?” Crouching down in front of him, John gently lifted Sherlock’s head from his knees and moved the curly strands of hair out the way so he could see the reddening eyes. Sherlock just looked at him, eyebrows drooping and his mouth hanging open slightly as he wasn't sure what to say.
“Okay, stupid question…Why?” John rested his strong hand on Sherlock’s weak shoulder and rubbed it slightly trying to get him to calm down. One by one the hallucinations began to disappear and it was back to just John and Sherlock in the room.
“I felt…Alone. John, I felt alone. I tried my hardest to find another way but you were out at work, no one was dying…That’s when it hit me; what am I to the world? People die, I find out how and the day’s over. I have a brother who doesn't care, a job that doesn't exactly need doing and the only friend I have is you but that doesn't feel enough!” Sherlock yelled the very last part before hiding away behind his upright knees again. His quivering hands gripped his slim shins as tight as they could…That was until something else got in the way. John’s hands cupped round his and slowly, ever so slowly, he began to calm down.
“Sherlock, you’re never alone. Mycroft does care – bear in mind it’s a sinister way. You have the single most important job in the world – England would be lost without you. Also…You said I wasn't enough as a friend? What more could I be? Come on Sherlock; keep your eyes on me.” John added the last part as he could see that Sherlock was slowly beginning to consciousness. Following John’s orders Sherlock kept his eyes open and gazed right into Dr. Watson’s vibrant blue eyes.
“I'm here for you Sherlock. Properly here.” Reaching forward with his hand, John wiped away a stray tear which was balancing on Sherlock’s cheekbone.
“Do you mean-“
“Like I said Sherlock, I'm here for you.”
“Yes but-“
“Shush…” John sat down properly and slid round to Sherlock’s side and gently pulling him down to half lie on his lap and half cuddle into his chest.
“I'm sorry, John.” Whispered Sherlock as he held his punctured arm close to himself.
“I know, Sherlock. I know…” John weaved his hand through Sherlock's slightly sweaty hair and softly circled his thumb against Sherlock’s hand which he was still holding.
Well it's no secret about Sherlock's drug addict so...an idea just popped in my head and I think it went pretty well!
© 2015 - 2024 smauglawk
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