Johnlock One-Shots

Blame | Pt1 |

Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes, perhaps you would prefer to call me 'machine' or even 'freak'. I wouldn't mind because i know it feels good to put down the lonely.
It was long day and I'm pretty sure the worst for Sherlock. He did not solve the case; it cost him the lives of three men. Now do not be silly and say 'Sherlock feels no remorse', because that is certainly not true. Sherlock chose not to show any signs that he was feeling the raw, painful guilt slowly eating away at him. It would be a lie to say all the spite filled Stares were not worsening Sherlocks fall in his 'emotions were bad' or much rather rise.
Even though his 'friends' had completely blanked him, no heads turning to him after the discovery of the bodies. That is not what the reason Sherlock has been reduced to heavy flowing years, hyperventilating in the bathroom.
Sherlock winced as he remembered the terrible moment. He truly felt every singe small thing in his life bloom into a colossal problem, stressing Sherlock out. He clutched his head as he looked at the broken man in the mirror and just mumbled "alone, I will always be alone, their deaths will always harm their friends...family. No one will love a Sociopath, no one will love whatever the hell I am" he looked down to the floor, clenching his eyes shut, " no one will love a freak".

FLASHBACK:

Sherlocks face held no remorse as he strode through the streets, the rain dripping down his face and plastering curls to his forehead. " Sherlock! Why didn't you stop that man! They died because you failed to be Human, why are you such a freak" Sally pushed out, her teeth were clenched as she and Lestrade followed him through the back streets of London, his stride always on step ahead of theirs; much like everything else about the consulting detective, always one step ahead. He shrugged her off. She took this as a sign of ' I really do not care' and let out a loud snarl before simply turning around and stomping off; wiping her tears when she remembered the small boys tears as he realised this was the end of his life. Lestrade was following Sherlock back to the Police Station, needing to fill in three death reports and also close the case. " That was a low Sherlock, even for you, why can't you just stop being...you" Greg said 'you' will do much disgust it almost made Sherlock want to scream and cry and punch various thing- including Greg. He remained silent and walked though the revolving doors of the station. To say it was silent when he walked him was an understatement, no one looked at him. 'No one likes you' Sherlocks mind taunted him, making him pinch and scratch his wrist. Not now.
John was outside in the rain, sitting on the edge of the police van, a orange shock blanket wrapped tightly around him, his hand clutching his mobile phone. As soon as he saw Sherlock retreating from the building he balled his fists up. John in this precise moment hated Sherlock. Sherlock knew John hated him, his eyes were piercing and his body language was one that someone seeing something disgusting could wear. ' Even your only friend hates you, why do you have to be such a monster...such a freak' Sherlocks mind snapped, making him clutch at his wrist and tug at the skin with his nails. Not now.
Walking home was a nightmare, John looked at the monster beside him every so few minutes and turned his nose up. "Murderer" John said, trying to mask his disgusted tone of voice. ' that's right Sherlock, you're a murderer' Sherlocks mind was screaming at him. His eyes were cast over with a haze of an emotion- only he did not know what it was. All he knew is that he hated it.

Sherlock was not the cause of these peoples death, he failed to tell the officers they were poisoned before they were each individually shot. Sherlock thought maybe he could of stopped the poison in some way- he knew deep down it would of been impossible. It was irrational to think Sherlock had been the cause of the deaths, but Sherlock felt guilty.

Sherlocks Pov

" Sherlock!" John snapped, looking at me in exasperation and a hint of hatred. I guess he was talking. I must of dazed off.
" You are such a heartless bastard, you know that right? Those poor mean died, because of you! It's all your fault and all you can do is walk around with that emotionless expression and wonder why everyone hates you so much! I can see it now. In this moment Sherlock, I hate you" John spat out, obviously mourning the three deaths he witnessed today. I could of told him about the poison, told him that it wasn't my fault. I didn't. I chose to remain silent, walking a bit quicker and keeping my face black- although my thoughts were going insane. John hates me. He might as well leave.

I knew I couldn't look for my secret stash when I walked in, I knew John would take it off me and start yelling about how much of a prick I am, so I just took my coat off and dumped it on the floor, taking off quickly to the bathroom despite Johns hateful stares. I heard him put the kettle on as I closed the door, the sound of the door banging closed echoed throughout the flat. I heard him slam the kettle on the kitchen surface, getting his anger out. Some where in the back of my mind was ' this is all your fault'. I couldn't help but agree.

Deep breaths. I drew a sharp breath in, filling my lungs. I held in for three seconds before releasing. I could feel a panic attack coming along, the panic that John would leave. I would be alone again...forever. I need a release; I opened the cabinet to grab my razor, opening the box clumsily before picking out my favourite. The sharp one. My thoughts and actions were cut short by the phone ringing. By the time taken to answer I could only deduce that it was St.Barts.

johns Pov-
" Ah John, we seem to have miscalculated" Molly's tone was rushed, " You need to get Sherlock" She seemed desperate. " Molly I am not talking to that freak! Why do you need him?" My tone was sharp. Sherlock Holmes was truly a horrible man. " There was poison found from the three victims blood, deadly, fatal, works after three hours of contact" Molly's tone was obvious, what does that have to to with anything? " They didn't die from the gun shots, they died from the poison. Sherlock didn't stop the bullets because they would of died anyway, no amount of treatment would of been able to reverse the poison" Molly's voice was fast. I felt the realisation flood all over my body. Sherlock didn't kill anyone, it's not his fault...but we blamed him. Oh shit. " Where is he right now" Molly's voice was filled with worry. " He's in the bathroom, locked it" I said back, worry in my voice. Why does she sound so worried, surely we could just apologise and everything would be fine.

" No no no no no, get him out of that bathroom, don't let him do anything stupid" She yelled down the line, " he has a past of depression, self harm, and substance abuse. He hasn't self harmed since his Uni days but GET HIM OUT" She yelled, before hanging up. Self harm? Sherlock Holmes has self harmed? Oh shit. My body sprung into action, flinging myself down the hallway and pounding on the door.

Sherlocks Pov-

My wrist was burning with pain, 6 cuts were neatly presented on my arm, blood pooling at the top. My head was lent back and my choked sobs were being caught by my breathing. What have I done...

My thoughts were interrupted by the door being banged on. Is John coming to beat me? To tell me to get out and never return? The door opened, the brutality of the knocking breaking the latches. John burst in, his gaze snapping towards me. I turned my wrist over, hoping he didn't see. I clenched my eyes shut waiting for the punches to start.

I could feel a presence beside me, warmth coming from Johns body as he lowered himself to sit down next to me. He didn't hurt me. Instead he picked up my arm, inspecting the cuts. " Sherlock I'm so sorry" He whispered, I opened my eyes to look into his- full of remorse and guilt. " I'm sorry John, I know I'm a freak and I know it's my fault and I know I should be alive and I know I'm a mistake and I'm sorry I'm a selfish prick and I'm sorry I'm a fuck up I'm so so so sorry" I pleaded, please stay John. I can't be alone. He shook his head frantically " Sherlock you are amazing, you are not a freak and you defiantly need to stay alive, we need you. I know it wasn't your fault...and you should know aswell. Why didn't you tell any of us before we...blamed you" He sounded disgusted, but not with me...with himself. " I could of stopped the poison" I whispered.

" No, no you couldn't of, Molly said there was no way for you to of stopped it" John wrapped his arms around me, avoiding touching my bleeding arm. I just shook my head. I could feel the tears building up. John placed his hand on my cheek, turning my face around to look at him. He looked at my tears and wiped them away with his smooth hands. My heart was beating irrationally in my chest as I looked down at his lips. I don't know if it was the situation or the fact I have always had a crush on John that made me do it, but soon I had pressed my lips against Johns.

Nothing could of prepared me for Johns soft lips moving against mine. His hand moving from my check to cup the back of my neck, stroking my hair with his fingers. I guess this is what it feels like to be happy. I placed my good arm around johns waist, holding him close to me.

" I love you" John mumbled against my moving lips, making me pull back from the kiss. Oh my god he loves me. " I love you to John"