Sherlock: Sick and tired. 5 Of 6

Sherlock: Sick and Tired.

Chapter Five: I hate you John Watson.


I am amazingly warm, calm and comfortable. I am in bed in the flat- no I am outside in a grass covered hill, high up pointed towards the sun. Everything looks beautiful, there was no death or confusion everything was at peace and I could breathe in the crisp warm air of safety. Bird overhead chirping in a sing song fashion, it made me smile to be here.

I lay on my stomach feeling the warm soft grass under my skin, a hand touches my back. I look up to see Sherlock he was smiling down at me, dressed in his usual attire. His face is clear and still pale under the sun but he looked happy just being here touching my back softly.

"Am I dead?" I ask him and he shakes his head, "No, John." His voice is deep and full of life.

"I am dying then," I say but I couldn't help the smile across my face.

"Yes. No. Maybe," He responds shrugging a bit then leans down to kiss my shoulder; his lips felt like rose peddles.

"I am just here; I am what your heart desires most to see in your time of wait." He says locking eyes with me, I roll onto my back and he now hovering over me, his body between my legs, those sharp hip bones digging into my thighs. The feeling is amazing and I wanted all of him.

"My time of wait?" I asked him as he left kisses around my face, neck, and shoulders.

"Your body is in limbo, you are not able to regain consciousness until your fate has been decided. Here is where you want to be, I am what you want to see." He smiles and I push hair from his face.

"So you are not real?" I felt a sinking feeling in my gut.

"No, I am as real as you are. I feel real that is enough here." He says kissing the tip of my nose.

"So the thing I desire most is Sherlock?" I ask him and he smiles at me, "Precisely, but you knew that already don't you?"

"I suppose I did, Sherlock," I knew he was fake; "Do you think you could love me?" He smiles a sad smile, "Of course, the facts John. All you have to do is think see and observe. Don't ignore the facts." He says and I smile at him but it wasn't the same.

"Really?"

Fake Sherlock frowns, "I am sorry, John, I am only the picture of Sherlock that you have in your head." He presses a finger between my eyes.

"I look how you remember and I say what is from your memory. I cannot answer those questions for you."

"But here we can pretend right?" I say almost in a whimper.

"Yes here I can be whatever you want; I can love you without doubt."

He leans in and kisses me right on the lips and I lose breath, I am not prepared for this.

"Then let's pretend for a while, alright?" I ask and Fake Sherlock nods at me.


*


"Clear!"


I jump at the foreign voice shouting through my fantasy.

"Don't worry," Fake Sherlock is naked and is now rubbing my back, "What was that?" I ask him and he kisses along my spine.

"Reality ripping through," I frown, reality vs. this was scary.

"Shhh," fake Sherlock tries to sooth me, "They can't come here, and you are safe." I look to him, his sweaty body, hair matted to his forehead. He looked like a god who just had sex.

"They can make it go away though; all of this will fall apart if I get better." He smiles, the sun still beating overhead.

"There is always a choice, John."

"What do you mean?" I ask and he leans down to lay on his back, looking up at me, my elbow that I was currently propped up on, were digging into the soft ground.

"If you did get better there is still a choice to be made." He looks up at me lovingly, if only real Sherlock looked at me this way.

"What choice?"

"Whether you want to go back to reality, you could let go and stay here forever but if you choose that you will died there is no going back. That choice would count as your second chance." He brings a hand up to hold eth side of my face.

"I wouldn't think people would get a choice," He smiles, "Most people don't, the truth is you don't remember this when you leave, you simply wake with the memory of the accident or horror before."

"Oh," I say to him.

Would I go back? Is that what I want?

I look at Fake Sherlock, he was so real here we could live a life that lasts forever we will never grow old or die. He will love me as much as I want him to. Real Sherlock would be the same Sherlock, who would never tell me he loves me. Who I could never tell my feelings; I wouldn't have to suffer in my feelings for him.

"Hold me," I say to Fake Sherlock, he rolls over and pulls me into his arms, his warm wet body pressing with mine. I could hear his heart beating, our hearts in union. I feel tears come and I cry. Fake Sherlock doesn't question just holds me close to him. A sob rattles my chest so I press my face into Fake Sherlock's neck.

I am so confused, about everything.


*


"He is in a coma; his body was compromised when we took the bullet out of him. Actually I am surprised he is alive. It's honestly up to him if he wakes."


A stranger's voice ring in my ears must have been the doctor.

"The choice will be coming soon?" I ask Fake Sherlock who kisses my shoulder, his hand teasing the skin on my lower back, we were still naked.

"Yes, but not yet, we have some time for you to think and for us to be here." I smile at him; it could be so easy to lose myself here. It was so real, him Fake Sherlock his face his touches the feeling so real I could pretend the rest of my life and stay here. I could be loved and who knows soon after the time passes I would forget it was fake, I would become this reality fully.

What would Sherlock do if I died? I'm sure he would have to find a new flat mate or work his cases. He would work on the cases and would have to go back to talking with his skull. I smile at the thought, I pictured him talking to a bloody skull in a cab or restaurant, and it was too funny to think of.

I sigh; a beautiful lie could possibly be the best thing for me now. My life has been strange and sort of depressing but that is only option on the matter. My only thought was maybe here with something almost real to escape real feelings may be my way to go.

Fake Sherlock brushes his fingers over my cheek lovingly, just because. I close my eyes to feel it; I just wanted to savour it for a bit more, just a bit more.


*


"I hate you John Watson." Real Sherlock's voice rings in my ear.


"He misses you," Fake Sherlock says to me stroking my chest.

"Do you think so?" I ask and he grins at me, "I don't know, I just know what you know and I can only tell you what you think me to say.

"Just look at the facts, John. It's all there right in front of you why can't you just see." Fake Sherlock says to me and I choke up a bit, so close but still a memory. I touch Fake Sherlock's face with just my fingertips. Not real, this wasn't real.


"I told you not to choose, why did you choose?" Real Sherlock's voice rings in my ears, I could hear him.


Fake Sherlock touches me; my body is here but not really.

"The question is, John," Fake Sherlock leans up to hover over me.

"Would you want me here, a beautiful lie or the real thing, even with all the emotional pain you put yourself through?"

The real thing was complicated.


"Wake up," Real Sherlock is talking lower than before, "You have to wake up."


Fake Sherlock turns to me, "Can I sing to you?" He asks and I grin at the idea of Sherlock singing but I say yes anyway.


"Spend all your time waiting for that second chance,
For a break that would make it okay,
There's always some reason to feel not good enough,
And it's hard at the end of the day I need some distraction, Oh, beautiful release,
Memory's seep from my veins they may be empty, oh, and weightless,
And maybe I'll find some peace tonight,"


Fake Sherlock's voice was beautiful; tears stung my eyes falling over to soak my cheeks. I wanted to see Sherlock again. Real Sherlock, the Sherlock who paces the floor while he works or wakes me late in the night to sleep next to me or to go on some strange adventure with him. I wanted the Sherlock that I made tea for in the mornings, the one who liked to drag me all over town to solve a case.


"You were pulled from the wreckage,
Of your silent reverie,
Here in the arms of the angel,
May you find some comfort here,"


Fake Sherlock is still singing, and that was okay I think he knew before I did that I wouldn't stay. I couldn't stay, I was a fighter and I would make it home to 221B Baker Street.

"I think I have to go," I say to Fake Sherlock, He smiles back to me, "Of course."

I kiss him one last time long and slow before I stand. I look down at myself and realized I was dressed. Fake Sherlock stands with me and holds onto my hand as I looked to the brightest part of the field.

"I won't remember you then?" I ask Fake Sherlock and he smiles at me.


"No, I am sorry. Goodbye John Watson."

I take a step turning around watching Fake Sherlock let go of me, his beautiful face fading into the light.


*

I see blackness but I could feel tubes and dull pain. A hand touching my own that I couldn't see but felt cool fingers touching mine. I try to move and touch them, Sherlock?


I feel my body twitch.

"John?" I cannot place the voice, I feel to light and distorted.

"Sherlock?" I ask and the hand that touched mine moved up to my face.

"John."

I blink almost forgetting I had eyes to see. Nothing is clear; I am burned around the edges.