Sherlock Fic: Category Two, Chapter Five
John opens his eyes and believes his terminal breath would fill his lungs with water. The bedroom is warm, stuffy, the blanket adheres to his skin. John turns his head, realizes it was a dream, sees Julie. Her eyes are open, she watches him, says nothing.
Category Two. The first time after almost three years. Because he saw Sherlock in the crowd.
She won’t understand.
_____
Lestrade looks concerned. Of course. It’s almost three years ago since Sherlock was buried and it wasn’t that simple for anyone, even for him, but he thought, it was over. He thought John has come to rest. All the blowups, the disappearing for days, the missed appointments with his therapist. Julie has pulled him out of his misery, so it seemed.
Strangely enough John is now standing in front of him, claiming he has seen Sherlock. It’s not so much the impossibility of this statement. A lot more worries him that John never said something like that before. Not in the darkest hour, not when the memory was still fresh. He has skipped the phase of denial and went straight to rage which turned to pure grief, after which he, with Julies help, drifted into some kind of ease.
Lestrade gets anxious. He just doesn’t know which one he fears the most; John losing his mind or John telling the truth.
“When?” he asks, calm, considerate. He takes a peek at Donovan who looks strangely pale and only gives a weak nod.
“Four days ago, Saturday, late afternoon in the city centre, in the crowd. And before someone is asking, of course I am sure it was him, bloody hell, I recognise him.”
Lestrades crosses his arms. Nods slightly.
“John, I don’t know what to do right now. To review this old case, start a search operation? You know quite well that’s impossible. And I think...” he clears his throat, “Don’t you think it would be better to let bygones be bygones?”
John slouches his shoulders. Of course, he thinks, of course it would be better to ignore it. There are so many explanations, so many possibilities that are much more plausible, and one of them is probably the right one. But how should he forget? The dreams have returned, Category Two. He can live with the nightmares about war, but not with that kind.
“You’re most likely right, Greg”, John forces himself to a false smile but isn’t successful, impossible to fool a friend with that.
“What about Julie? Did you tell her?”
John sighs. Sure he did. They discussed the rest of the night, serious at first, logical. But then Julie got aggressive, collected blames, invented arguments which didn’t make any sense. Called him irrational, crazy. Even obsessed, if he remembers right.
“What do you think?” John shrugs, cops a look at Donovan. Then he turns around and leaves the room without farewell.
Category Two. The first time after almost three years. Because he saw Sherlock in the crowd.
She won’t understand.
_____
Lestrade looks concerned. Of course. It’s almost three years ago since Sherlock was buried and it wasn’t that simple for anyone, even for him, but he thought, it was over. He thought John has come to rest. All the blowups, the disappearing for days, the missed appointments with his therapist. Julie has pulled him out of his misery, so it seemed.
Strangely enough John is now standing in front of him, claiming he has seen Sherlock. It’s not so much the impossibility of this statement. A lot more worries him that John never said something like that before. Not in the darkest hour, not when the memory was still fresh. He has skipped the phase of denial and went straight to rage which turned to pure grief, after which he, with Julies help, drifted into some kind of ease.
Lestrade gets anxious. He just doesn’t know which one he fears the most; John losing his mind or John telling the truth.
“When?” he asks, calm, considerate. He takes a peek at Donovan who looks strangely pale and only gives a weak nod.
“Four days ago, Saturday, late afternoon in the city centre, in the crowd. And before someone is asking, of course I am sure it was him, bloody hell, I recognise him.”
Lestrades crosses his arms. Nods slightly.
“John, I don’t know what to do right now. To review this old case, start a search operation? You know quite well that’s impossible. And I think...” he clears his throat, “Don’t you think it would be better to let bygones be bygones?”
John slouches his shoulders. Of course, he thinks, of course it would be better to ignore it. There are so many explanations, so many possibilities that are much more plausible, and one of them is probably the right one. But how should he forget? The dreams have returned, Category Two. He can live with the nightmares about war, but not with that kind.
“You’re most likely right, Greg”, John forces himself to a false smile but isn’t successful, impossible to fool a friend with that.
“What about Julie? Did you tell her?”
John sighs. Sure he did. They discussed the rest of the night, serious at first, logical. But then Julie got aggressive, collected blames, invented arguments which didn’t make any sense. Called him irrational, crazy. Even obsessed, if he remembers right.
“What do you think?” John shrugs, cops a look at Donovan. Then he turns around and leaves the room without farewell.