Everybody Leaves

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Close Your Eyes

Sherlock took the first step cautiously. He had no idea how he got here, or even really where 'here' was. He looked up at the wicked faces the branches above him made, turning into creeping grins and murderous frowns.

He had a torch in his hand but could not see, everything he shun the light on was covered in darkness.

He spun around in a circle, but there was nothing.

The dark depths of the forest closed in on him, taking his breath away as the guilt crashed down in him, all the pain. It swallowed him hole, and then there they were.

His Mum and his Dad. Even Auntie B was there, lurking in the shadows of what once was.

Sherlocks mother walked up to him, and he had expected a kiss or a hug, for her to tell him that everything's alright, but not what came next.

She slapped him, and as he fell to the ground she told him how much she always hated him, that he was a disgrace to the family.

His father said he wasn't holding up to the Holmes name, he should be ashamed.

Why else would they leave?

They began to wither away, melt to the ground, and there was nothing sherlock could do as they cried out in agony.

Then Mycroft was there, looking down at him in such disgust Sherlock didn't know what to do.

"Look at what you did," he spat. "Just look. You killed them. You did this. YOU."

And then Mycroft actually spit on Sherlock, because he deserved it. Then there's everyone, all the faces he sees so often but just as quickly forgets. And they all hate him so much.

But it's okay.

He hates himself too.

There's a gun in his hand, it feels cold and heavy.

"Just close your eyes." They tell him.

And he does.

Sherlock gasps, head flying off the pillow.

And then he's looking around the room, trying to understand, but he can't because all of the pain hurts. It just /hurts/. It's just TOO MUCH.

He pulls at his short black hair, trying to make it all stop. His mind is pulling out every single thing he's doing and the possibilities to why he's doing it and he just wants it to stop. Just stop, stop, stop, stop, stop

The pain has subsided, he releases his grasp on his hair.

He throws back the duvet, landing on the floor and walked around his bed and out of the room. He goes down the hallway and to the stairs. He looks around, not sure what for, before heading down.

Once in the kitchen, he fills a glass with water, but doesn't want to drink it. For now he leaves it on the table.

He goes to the sitting room, leaves the light off and just turns on the television before laying across the white leather sofa.

It's on a cartoon. Some cat chasing a mouse with a shovel. He changes it. It's the news.

"This just in," the women on screen says. "Three people killed and left in front of a women- Walta Balt's home. Ms. Balt tells us she was out visiting relatives at the time of the crime."

The camera switches, and now it shows an over weight forty year old woman.

"It was horrifying! I just came home an there they were, just spread across my lawn like garbage."

It switches back.

"The police have yet to give any information of who the victims were, or who could have done the heinous act. Well be back later tonight with an update. Back to you, Will."

Sherlock sighs, clicking off the TV. He leans his head back.

'Just close your eyes' Something echoes in his mind.

And he does.