by The Consulting Detective Wed Nov 07, 2012 3:37 am
((I am redirected to the main page of the site :x))
((No, everything is fine for me :)))
((Because this is quite a... you'll see what... post, I had not the space to ask the characters where the journalists have gone to and if Sherlock wanted to add something to the post. Because he wants to, so yeah, guess that'll have to wait a little longer))
((Ok, brace yourself. I wrote something.... well, you'll see.))
Sherlock felt happy. He felt utterly happy, nothing could come at him and destroy it, because here he was, lying under hís John, his lover, his fiancé, his everything. They had had the first sex he actually had fully enjoyed. No, enjoyed wasn’t the right word. The feeling of finally achieving the closest they could was perfect. He felt complete.
“I agree to rings. I want everybody to see we’re in love and that you’re taken. If that is what people need to see to believe the sincerity of our relationship, I would wear it. Moreover I am proud that I have such a sexy fiancé and a fantastic lover.”
He smiled, pressed a kiss on John's forehead and laid back again.
For a while, Sherlock enjoyed John’s fondling of his chest, the rise and fall of their chests and the shared silence. Sherlock played with John’s fingers. Then entwining, then stroking affectionately. John had normal to small hands with short fingers in contrast to Sherlock, who had long lean fingers.
After a while, Sherlock felt the urge to speak.
“John, I have to tell you something about my past. Something I’ve never told anyone before.”
John rose with a worried look.
“You don’t need to if you are uncomfortable talking about it.”
“I know. I want to tell you this. It’s important. You need to know.”
He took a deep breath. Talking about emotions wasn’t his talent and never would be, but at least he wasn’t afraid anymore to open up to John. Sherlock exhaled through his mouth and started.
“I’ll just be very blunt and honest. I was a wreck. A miserable heap of flesh with a brilliant mind. The cases I had and the experiments I did at Bart’s were the only things that made me feel alive. The rest of the days were a blur. Partly because of my boredom, but mostly because of the cocaine. I was living an addict’s life, addicted to cocaine and addicted to data and testing that data. I didn’t do love. I just didn’t. I never loved. I never felt loved. Boys, girls, doubtful cases... They all said they loved me, but I knew their love was shallow, It didn’t mean anything. They only liked my physical form and maybe were attracted to intellect, but they were never deeply interested in the emotions behind it. Or they were dull like Molly. I never hoped for love. I didn’t know what it was to love, because at home I was never loved. I was always the irritating smart-ass kid that said what he thought without regretting it. I was the black sheep, the outcast of the family and school.
“I told you before that all of my former flatmates left me. That had two reasons: Or my experiments scared them away or they just wanted to live with me for the sex they expected from me. In both cases, they left me in the end. I lived together for 3 months max, then half a year alone again. So cocaine had free range. Well, you can imagine how those days would have been like. Then came Lestrade who had heard of me from a Uni peer. Then, at least my mind was preoccupied.
“But I had given it up. I was OK with the prospect of living alone in a romantic way. There was just no one who fit me, who wasn’t stupid or criminal or alive.
Sherlock took a deep breath again. It had been a long time since he had thought about his past. He felt like a pressure pressed on his stomach. The worst part had to come. He had to continue. John needed to know.
“I considered ending it once. My life, I mean. At that point living alone amongst imbeciles, only four cases per month was making me unhappy, worthless and pathetic. I decided to give finding a flatmate just one last shot, and if that wouldn’t work out, I would end everything by myself.”
Sherlock swallowed. He had never talked to anyone about this. That he had wanted to commit suicide was his deepest secret, now laid bare. For the first time in a long time he felt as vulnerable as he could feel. He thought he’d never tell anyone about it because he didn’t let himself be that vulnerable. But he had just proposed to John, so that thought was gone forever. He continued.
“But then, everything changed.”
Sherlock stroked John’s fringe over his forehead, stroking down over his temples and cheeks. Sherlock smiled and felt a lump forming in his throat. Though every emotional instinct told him to flee, he stayed and remained eye-contact. If anyone should know, John should.
“You saved me. Literally. And what I want to say is-“
His voice was thick and his words slow and paused. Sherlock’s lip uncontrollably started shaking, so Sherlock had to bite down his lower lip in order to hold back the emotions boiling up in him. It was no use. He felt one wet droplet running down his cheek. The high word had to be out.
“Thank you.”