Warning: suicide attempt
Question to discuss: Tell him you're alive. -IA
Stranger 2: No. - SH
Stranger 1: ... I, what? -JW
Stranger 2: That is the last time I trust a "secure" line. - SH
Stranger 2: This is not as I envisioned. - SH
Stranger 1: No. What? I can't... What? Yo- He died. Felt his pulse. He's dead. -JW
Stranger 2: I agree entirely. Pronounced dead on the scene. It would be wise for you to move on accordingly. - SH
Stranger 1: Hallucinations. Makes sense with the situation at hand. -JW
Stranger 2: What situation might that be? Asking purely as an outsider, of course. - SH
Stranger 1: ... Simply giving up on life. Weak fool that I am. -JW
Stranger 2: I pray that you are joking. - SH
Stranger 1: Why would I joke about something so serious? -JW
Stranger 2: I've never quite cared about some forms of humour. - SH
Stranger 2: Of course, you are right. But... why would you give up? - SH
Stranger 1: All the pitying looks. The coddling. It's annoying. Sometimes you just want to join the ones you love. -JW
Stranger 2: They are doing it for your well-being, as I understand it. - SH
Stranger 2: The ones you love, however, would urge you not to join them. - SH
Stranger 1: I've got at the most 10 minutes. I've already made my decision. It's selfish, I know. But I just can't keep going on any longer. -JW
Stranger 2: Where are you, John? I will /not/ let you do this to yourself. I made sacrifices to keep you safe. You will not throw that away. - SH
Stranger 1: I... I need this. -JW
Stranger 2: John, please. Tell me where you are. Don't do anything rash. - SH
Stranger 1: Bit to late for that. -JW
Stranger 2: You can fight in a war and yet you'll give up now? Tell me where you are. - SH
Stranger 1: 221b, bathroom. Looks so pretty covered in red. -JW
Stranger 2: I will not let you do this. Just wait for me, John. I'll be there as soon as I can. - SH
Stranger 1: But it looks so good, why would I want to stop it? -JW
Stranger 2: Because I'm alive, John. Doing this isn't going to help. You'll just be leaving me. I thought you wanted to join me. - SH
Stranger 1: Can't be alive. Felt pulse. So tired. -JW
Stranger 2: You really think I'd let him win like that? At least keep talking to me. I'm almost there. Please. - SH
Stranger 1: I-I-I.. -JW
Stranger 2: Stop it, John. Use your mind. I'm alive. - SH
Stranger 1: It makes some sense. I do u-understand slightly. -JW
Stranger 2: Sherlock would have dedicated more time to typing out a response, but he stood outside 221B. In his hand was the key he'd never been able to throw away, and it slid into the lock perfectly. Thank /God/ they hadn't thought to change the locks. Then again, who would count on a dead man breaking in? The layout of the flat was startlingly familiar, and Sherlock's legs carried him on instinct to the bathroom. In his chest his heart constricted in a painful manner Sherlock had only experienced up on the roof of Bart's. Nerves. "John?" Though he had been trying to keep his living a secret, now was not the time. He'd already dialled the paramedics. There went his plan, but what could he have done? Let John /die/? Never.
Stranger 1: John felt the phone slip from his grasp, weakly holding onto it and throwing up a bit in the toilet, letting out a pain filled groan. John forced his eyes open, keeping them wide and staring down at his wrists, blinking away tears and laying his head on the toilet bowl, letting out a small "Yes?" and wincing at the pain inflicted on his vocal cords, dry from lack of use.
Stranger 2: Sherlock actually froze in the doorway. Somehow he'd been hoping John was joking - sick humour of some kind. "What have you done?" Sherlock asked, voice quiet and uncertain - an inflection of confusion only John could put there. No one else knew how to throw him off-balance quite like that, but this was the very /wrong/ kind. Sherlock was no doctor, but he was capable enough to grab a towel off the rack and bring it over to try and stem the flow of blood. He gently pulled John's hands together so that he could staunch the blood still sluggishly rising from the cuts on his wrists. "You're not dying, just so you know." Sherlock informed him, feeling some reassurance in those words, as weak as they sounded.
Stranger 1: John flinched, eyes staring at Sherlock unfocused. "Even the other hallucinations couldn't touch me," He murmured, coughing painfully and letting out a small groan, closing his eyes and looking away from Sherlock, embarrassment and guilt flickering behind closed eyes. He kept quiet, letting out small gasps of pain every so often, refusing to look at Sherlock.
Stranger 2: "Right now I don't care whether you believe me a figment of your imagination or not." Sherlock said, trying to keep his words slow and calm to maintain some sense of sanity in the bathroom. "I'm going to help you." Not so much Sherlock himself, though - right now he was not saving John's life so much as delaying the inevitable. It might be his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain he could now hear sirens. John just needed to hold on, even if he thought Sherlock was just an apparition coming to haunt him in his last few moments.
Stranger 1: He swallowed harshly, forcing his eyes open, trying to keep himself awake, frowning lightly before a smile worked itself onto John's face, shuddering, starting to feel cold and feeling his energy start to disappear. " I never did blame you, expected that you might have been forced to jump, not your way of doing things at least." John whispered quietly, trailing off at the end, keeping his head down.
Stranger 2: Sherlock had John wrapped in an unusual hug, his arms outstretched to keep John's from bleeding any further. He let his head rest lightly against John's own, regulating his breathing to a steady in and out. There were sirens nearing. They'd be fine. "Explanations can wait." Sherlock said, knowing that now was not the time to explain to John just how he'd pulled off the stunt that had driven him to this point. Outside the sirens reached their loudest, and there were people entering the flat. Surely Mrs Hudson would notice the commotion now. Sherlock didn't want her to see the two of them like that, covered in blood.
Stranger 1: John shuddered, looking at Sherlock before looking away, guilt racking his body, hating to show how weak he was in front of Sherlock. "To be honest, I don't care," He murmured, keeping his head down, clenching and unclenching his hands weakly.
Stranger 2: There was no reason for John to feel guilty - Sherlock was more than capable of that emotion, and enough for the two of him. He hadn't realised when he'd pulled the stunt just how much it would come to hurt John. His only concern at the time had been saving him from the sniper, and from there it had spiralled out of control. "You will care, and I will explain it all to you later." Sherlock commanded mere seconds before actual, trained professionals entered the room. They quickly took over from him, and Sherlock was shunted away from John. Now that his hands were no longer preoccupied with holding John's life together, they shook slightly. Intriguing.
Stranger 1: John felt pain course through his body, shuddering even more, biting down on his lip harshly, swallowing, hands shaking violently, closing his eyes and trying to stop the shaking, upset at having Sherlock taken away from him again.
Stranger 2: It hurt more to watch as people tried to help John, tried to piece him back together before taking him to the hospital. Sherlock hovered on the outside, not wanting to interfere and risk ruining all of their hard work. No one seemed very concerned by him - he gave them what information he knew (very little), and was then permitted to follow them out to the ambulance. Once John was in the vehicle he was much better off, proper medical attention doing wonders for him, though it was not to say he was out of the woods. Once it became obvious that they could do no more for him until reaching the hospital, Sherlock reached out and took one of John's pale hands in his own, gently trying to relay some of his warmth into the cold extremity.
Stranger 1: Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at Sherlock through half-lidded eyes, opening and shutting his mouth and just ended up squeezing Sherlock's hand ever so weakly, giving him a reassuring smile. John didn't know what to say so just settled for the silence apart from the small gasps he'd let out, pain coming and going. He felt his eyes close involuntarily, his body becoming weaker, fighting to keep both appendages working to the best of their ability.
Stranger 2: Sherlock was not a physically affectionate sort of person. He took his cues from what he knew people to do, and yet clasping his other hand over John's, that was purely on instinct. He wanted to tell him not to worry about talking, to just keep holding on there, but it all seemed redundant. All too soon they were in emergency - a place Sherlock had never experienced from this point of view, from a concerned friend. They were more thorough when they dragged him from John's side this time, asking him to go through what had happened in great detail. Sherlock knew little about the incident, and then even less about John himself when it came to personal details. All he really had was address and name. A lot of the strange quirky things Sherlock knew about the other man wouldn't really help the hospital staff.
Stranger 1: He drifted in and out of sleep, feeling some of his strength coming back, but not being able to move, his whole body numb. Catching glimpses of faces and setting, he fazed in and out, darkness finally encompassing his vision as he heard the beeping of a heart monitor.
Stranger 2: Sherlock managed to keep John's condition - and his, for that matter - from reaching any ears it shouldn't. Mycroft would likely find out and hunt him down here anyway, but the more people he could keep in the dark, the better. At last they allowed Sherlock to visit John, stabilised and very much alive. They mentioned keeping him around for a psychiatric evaluation, but Sherlock deemed that a problem to be dealt with later and shunted it to the back of his mind. For the time being he curled up awkwardly in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, again grasping John's hand in his own. "And you had the nerve to call me an idiot." He said dryly to the quiet room.
Stranger 1: Opening his eyes slowly, he flinched, closing them quickly as the light assaulted his eyes. Opening them again, his eyes adjusted to the light in the room and glancing around tiredly, taking in the room. John looked over at the side, eyes still half shut, before they widened, looking down at their enclosed hands and letting a small smile appear on his face. "I'm sorry," He murmured, trying to keep the guilt from appearing in his eyes.
Stranger 2: Sherlock kept John's hand safe between both of his own. "I forgive you." He stated simply, following social protocol for apologies. "Dare I ask why, John?" When he'd left, Sherlock had known it would be hard. He'd just thought that John was more than that - stronger.
Stranger 1: "The first few months were okay, horrible but okay, it just went down from there, everything reminded me of you, and I just slipped into a mild case of depression, not enough for anyone to notice, but it was still there, and then I just couldn't handle it. Bottling my feelings, the pitying looks I received. I just couldn't handle it," John kept his head down, not wanting Sherlock to see how much it'd actually affected him.
Stranger 2: Sherlock listened quietly, knowing that at the very centre of this mess... was him. "I did this to keep you safe, John." Sherlock admitted. That had been his only desire - to keep John from harm. Slowly working through Moriarty's web of clients and henchmen... it had been easier without John involved. "I did not ever expect it would come to this."
Stranger 1: "I-I understand," He murmured, shaking his head lightly. "And if you need to leave again, I understand."
Stranger 2: Really, it would be best for him to leave now. To tell John that there was unfinished business out there, and perhaps keep a closer eye on him in future. But Sherlock couldn't bring himself to do that. "I'm not leaving you now." He said, quite astounded that John would even suggest such a thing.
Stranger 1: "I don't want you to feel obliged you have to stay at least, I'll... survive," John winced at his choice of words, already wanting to take them back,
Stranger 2: "Survival and being alive are two very different things, John." Sherlock said, drawing a pattern on the back of John's hand, pleased to feel that there was some life in there. Before they had been far too cold, too still... too red. "I'm not leaving."
Stranger 1: John swallowed, nodding his head nervously and propping himself up against the bed, keeping his hand in Sherlock's and using his other to run through his hair softly.
Stranger 2: Sherlock kept vigil by John's bedside. "I'm glad you understand." He said, partially concerned that John had yet to put up any kind of fight about what was going on. Seeing him so complacent was... worrisome.
Stranger 1: "I always did, somewhat at least," He whispered, keeping his eyes closed and giving a small nod, smiling softly.
Stranger 2: Sherlock gave a very faint smile. "Good. I know I'm not the doctor here, but I believe you should rest."
Stranger 1: John shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "I'll be fine."
Stranger 2: Sherlock sighed, unable to bring himself to let go of John's hand, just in case... he lost him once more. "You aren't fine right now."
Stranger 1: "I'm not tired though," John argued, squeezing Sherlock's hand with as much strength as he could muster.
Stranger 2: "Is there anything you need?" Sherlock offered, running one thumb back and forth across the back of John's hand. "I'm sure I can get someone to attend to you if need be."
Stranger 1: "I've got everything I need," He smiled, chuckling softly.
Stranger 2: Sherlock managed a faint smile. "Good."
Stranger 2 has disconnected