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Don`t leave me lonely

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” I need to talk to you” Sherlock said quietly to John, he looked up from the book he was reading and looked at Sherlock. It was a lovely rainy day in London, John and Sherlock were sitting on their big chairs opposite each other.

”Yeah?” John stared at Sherlock in confusion.
John had decided to move back in to 221b baker street with Sherlock after the death of Mary and the baby, it had been kind of awkward at first but soon enough they were back as before. Going on cases and giggling at crime scenes.

” I love you” Sherlock whispered and bit his lip, he was so nervous but determined that john felt the same. Sherlock had only said these words once to a person -other than his family; Victor Trevor.
Beautiful, sweet Victor.
After only four months of knowing him Sherlock had been sure that he loved him and that he loved Sherlock back, how wrong he had been. Victor had of course laughed at Sherlock`s confession and teased him about it until he left Uni, he had only been out for Sherlock`s money; obviously.

But this wasn`t Victor, this was John, his best friend. They had been through so much together, he is Sherlock`s conductor of light, warming him up and leading the way when everything is dark and cold.

Instead of smiling and confessing his love to him as well, John looked…disgusted? No that can`t be right, maybe Sherlock was deducing it wrong, that must be it, right?

”Are you a bloody homosexual?!” John stood up from his chair, he was furious.

Sherlock felt a tear run down his right cheek as he looked down at his hands, he felt rather uncomfortable. ”Yes, I am” he replied after a while and felt himself blush from embarrassment.

”You`re such a freak! ” John screamed at Sherlock and stormed off the flat, down the seventeen steps and out of the building.

Sherlock stood up, ran to one of the living room windows and watched john go, what have you done now Sherlock, said a teasing voice- that sounded just like Moriarty- in his brilliant head. Sherlock sobbed and moved slowly out of the window. He closed his eyes and counted backwards from five million, as he tried to keep the bile down his throat.

It`s your fault, it`s your fault John is gone, Sherlock sat down on his now uncomfortable chair and cried, the voice was right. It`s his fault john is gone, if he hadn`t told him that he loved him maybe John would still have been here; with him.

Sherlock stood up so fast he nearly lost his balance, he furiously wiped off the tears on his red cheeks and set off to the bathroom, he knew what he had to do.

Once in the bathroom he took off his suit and shirt, he looked at his face. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked disgusting, you are disgusting, ugly, pathetic- Sherlock ignored the voice in his head fully knowing how messy things could get if he listened to it.

He turned around and looked at his back in the small mirror of his and john`s shared flat, there were so many scars on his back, white ugly scars, he felt himself tear up a little. He didn`t do this often, he hated looking at his scars, it reminded him of his time away and the torture he had to go through in Serbia, all for John; who is now gone.

Sherlock let out a few gasps, he had started hyperventilating. Panic attacks were nothing new to him, he had had them daily when he was a child.
He had them when the other children called him names, faggot they would call him and all he would do was curl up like a little ball on the floor and cry.
Or when his father would scream at him, telling him to stop showing off. As if it was something he could control, what Sherlock does is not just deduction but seeing, he sees everything and it`s not something he can just turn off wherever he likes, it`s a living hell he knows too well.

You`re too stupid to know how to, said the little voice again and Sherlock just nodded in agreement as he looked at himself in the mirror, Sherlock screamed and shattered it with his fist. He took a piece of glass and looked at it for a minute, he was sobbing so hard his hand shook, do it do it do it, the voice said like it was a bloody song.

Sherlock brought up his left arm, and in no time at all he was cutting deep ugly horizontal lines on his arm. He gasped and smiled, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Sherlock moaned in pain and after a while started sobbing as the pain of the glass became too much.

”BAMM”

Sherlock looked up just in time to see Mycroft open the door, Sherlock groaned and tried to cover over the wounds with his right hand. Both of his hands were bloody, there was no point in trying to cover it up.

”Oh, little brother. What happened?” Mycroft moved closer to him but Sherlock moved backwards until he felt the bathtub touch the back of his legs.
He was shaking uncontrollably.

”He`s gone” sobbed Sherlock as he tried to stop the blood from running down his arms, Mycroft doesn`t say anything; he knows. Sherlock stares at him, gives his brother a short nod and Mycroft understands, he always does.

He walks slowly to Sherlock and looks at his brother`s arm, Mycroft grimaces at the horrible cuts and Sherlock glares at him through his wet eyelashes.
Mycroft walks quickly out of the bathroom in search of the first aid kit, he is back after a few minutes and sees that Sherlock is sitting on the bloody toilet floor, crying silently and shaking.

Mycroft takes care of Sherlock`s self-inflicted wounds, takes him to his bedroom and slowly lays him down. Sherlock isn`t crying anymore but he is still shaking, at least not as violently as before, thought Mycroft in pity.

Mycroft pulls the cover over the detective`s body and starts walking out when he feels Sherlock reach out for him” will you stay?” he ask with a small voice that remains Mycroft of when they were children and Sherlock would beg him to stay with him until he fell asleep.

Of course he won`t you stupid cunt, he doesn`t like you, nobody likes y-

” Always, I will always be there for you. Even if you don`t want me to” Sherlock looks up at him with his bloodshot eyes as Mycroft gives him a small sad smile, he lays down beside Sherlock and takes him in his arms.
Sherlock suddenly feels like he is where he belongs, fuck John, he has his nice big brother here with him now and that is all that matters.

”I love you, Mycroft"