Texting Sherlock

Sixteen By Six

A/N: I'm sorry... Time (or the lack of it) has really caught up with me and I haven't been able to write much. Here's a chapter (heavily) based off of The Final Problem.

Individual Chapter

"Love makes us blind, Sherlock," she said, "Don't you agree?"

Sherlock Holmes whipped around to the screen, distress flooding his already broken eyes.

"You can't" he whispered, "You just can't. It's not human".

"Who said I was?" Eurus gave a dry laugh.

"Now go on," she said, "I want to see you play a game. Don't keep me waiting. Shoot the man you love or shoot your brother. Your choice" Eurus' voice carried through the flat screen on the wall and into the empty room with Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and John Watson.

The screen went black. Over the intercom, her voice could be heard again, even more chilling this time, "Shoot the man you love, Sherlock, or shoot the man who is the head of the Government".

"So this is it then," John said, his voice hoarse, "It's come down to between Mycroft and I. One of is dies, and one of us walks away with you. There's no way out".

Mycroft didn't say anything.

Sherlock brought his arms to his head, breathing heavily, faced with a decision he could never make.

The man he loves or his brother.

"There are so many things," Sherlock said through his palms.

"I know," John replied, "I know".

"She can't..." Sherlock spoke again but was interrupted again by John.

"I know, Sherlock. I know. There's nothing we can do about it, though. Face it, deep down you knew it was going to come down to this".

A tear rolled down Sherlock's cheek and he heard John shuffle closer to him before he felt arms envelop him in a hug.

"Soldiers today, Sherlock, soldiers today" John whispered, trying to keep his own composure because he knew that if the both of them fell apart, it would sure mean doom for all three of them.

John felt Sherlock wrap his arms around him, the taller man's head resting on John's gray hair.

"You're right" he inhaled and let go, "You're right".

"We'll play your game Euros," Sherlock said, suddenly confident as if nothing bad was going to happen in the next couple of minutes.

Sherlock's voice echoed through the empty bunker, but there was no reply from his sister.

"Mycroft" Sherlock turned to his older brother, who, in turn, gave him a sheepish smile and a bow of a head, "You're my older brother. Obviously. Faced with this heart-wrenching decision, it would be apparent to anyone that it should be you that I shoot. You would understand. However, the Holmes family never plays games by their rules, we make up our own".

Sherlock turned to John, "John", his heart smiled at the word, "John, you have been everything that I needed and everything that I do not deserve. I, to this second, do not understand how you can love a coarse and uncivil man like myself. You found it in your heart to stay by my side and help me through everything that I have been faced with. You're a hero, John Watson. I can never repay you enough for everything that you have done. In one way, this is a goodbye. I love you, John. I wish we could have eternity together, but you're right, deep down I have known that we would never get the chance. Thanks for the memories. Take care of yourself. I love you".

"What are you doing?" Mycroft took a step back.

"The roads we walk have demons beneath them. I can see the road ahead of me and it has opened up, they're climbing out. It's time I faced them" Sherlock responded, smiling weakly at this brother.

"What is this?" John asked, his voice barely audible in the otherwise silent room.

"It is what it is" was Sherlock's short answer.

He brought the gun to his head.

"For the demons"

Bang.

<> <> <> <> <>

January 16, 2017

She let us go. The grief of her 'game' going wrong caught up with her. They took her away, she's secure. I haven't seen Mycroft, they whisked him away in a helicopter. 'Matter of national security' they said. This one feels different. There was no plan. Not this time. You're actually dead. It's tearing me apart. I keep replaying the scene in my head. Was there something I could have done? Taken the gun from you when we were hugging? I didn't know. Lunged at you when you had it next to your head? I wasn't fast enough.
You said 'it is what it is' before you died. You've always been cryptic, haven't you, Sherlock? You talked about the demons under the roads that we walk? I agree. Mine are coming out now, breaking the ground, grabbing at my feet, pulling me under, every day it gets harder to breathe.
My every days' have turned into nothings. I can't do anything, as much as I want to, I just can't. It seems as if you were the one that kept those demons locked away, and now that you're gone, they are free to come out.

God, I miss you, Sherlock. [The next words are barely legible from the tear stains] I love you. There's not a minute in a day when I don't think about you. Not one. I wish I could hear you barreling up the stairs, yelling about a case. I wish I could hear you and Rosie in the other room, laughing. I wish I could hear your typing on my laptop. I wish I could hear your breathing when you finally fall asleep after a long day. I wish I could wake you up again in the morning with a cup of tea and a kiss. I wish I would come home to your violin playing.
Instead, I come home (is it even home anymore) to emptiness and coldness. I wake up to the absence of you. I still make two cups of tea. Habit, I guess. One goes cold. Not much of a difference there, you would only take a couple of sips anyway, and then say that you're not hungry.[The paper is stained with tears here again].

This is for all the years we didn't get together. This is also for me because I know that if I don't have some sort of 'communication' with you, I'll go absolutely mad with heartbreak.

I love you, Sherlock Holmes.

Yours, forever yours,
John Watson.

[I <3 HEARING FROM YOU]
How have you been? I've been gone for a while, I want to know :D
-I've been good. Slowly working my way through the year, two-ish months until graduation. I got into the college that I wanted. It's been pretty mundane aside from that, though.