Ghost in This House (JohnLock AU)

Lost

A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! Another chapter!!!! Only one more after this I think....be prepared!! Enjoy<3

"I know you're in there Sherlock!"

"I'm here John!"

"You've got to fight Love!"

"John!"

"I love you Sherlock."

"John!"

It's dark when Sherlock wakes, blinking in the darkness of the bathroom. The blood on his wrists is dried, cracking and pulling as he moves. He gags at the unpleasant scent of stale blood, pushing himself painfully to his feet.

"John?" He called, stumbling from the bathroom. The flat was dark and empty, no one had been there for years.

His skull was not on the mantle.

This wasn't real.

He had trapped himself in a memory, lost somewhere in the depths of his mind palace.

"Sherlock?" The voice filled the flat and startled Sherlock. He collapsed to the floor, looking around helplessly as he tried to find the source of the voice.

"John?" His chest tightened as he recognized the loud voice. "John! I'm here! Please! I remember you!"

"God Sherlock, what have you done?"

"John! I'm here!" He pulled open the door to the flat, trying to find his way out.

A young man pushed his way into the flat, grinning softly at Sherlock. He knew this boy; his memories were tucked deep into the back corner of his mind palace. Suddenly, Sherlock knew where he was.

It was the night he left Victor Trevor. The night of his first suicide attempt.

"N-No, no you can't be here-"

"Sherlock? What's wrong darling?" Victor asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and watching him with concern. "Are you- are you, high?"

"You have to leave."

"Jesus Sherlock. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Please don't. I can't do this again."

"What are you talking about Love?" Victor grabbed his elbow and tried to drag him towards the bathroom. Panic gripped him as the memory became clearer. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"No! John! John please!" He wrenched himself free of Victor's grasp and scrambled away, tripping over the rug and falling heavily to the floor.

"Sherlock, you're delirious. My name's Victor. Now, please, let me help you-"

"No! You're not real! John! John!" His vision blurred as his breathing turned erratic. Warm arms pulled him into their firm embrace and his mind was filled with memories of Victor. He could remember long nights spent in the other man's arms, days spent apart so no one found out. He remembered stolen kisses in the university supply closet.

"You're safe here, Sherlock. This isn't real." Victor pulled away, smiling sadly at him. "We can be happy here. In this moment." Victor's hands were on his cheeks, pulling him forward and kissing him tenderly. "Let me take care of you." Sherlock shook his head, fighting against the urge to return the kisses.

"Victor-"

"Stay here with me. You don't have to suffer here. You can build a life with me." Victor was warm, nostalgia seeping from his very core, familiar in a distant sort of way.

But he wasn't John.

"I-I can't- I-I need- I need to get back." Victor kept pressing soft kisses to his face and lips, but the pulsing in his wrists had returned and was making the affectionate touches feel miles away. "Please, I-I need John-" Victor's movements stopped and he pulled away, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"This John, does he love you?" Sherlock's chest seized in a heavy sob as he nodded. "And you love him in return?"

"Yes." Victor sighed, leaning back on his heels and looking around the flat, a weight seeming to settle itself on his shoulders.

"Did you ever really love me?" Sherlock's heart shattered at the question.

"I-I don't know. We were so young-"

"You loved the challenge of me more than you actually loved me." Sherlock sniffled and nodded, watching as the young man stood. "Don't feel bad, I knew that's all I could get from you. You made me feel free to love whoever I wanted."

"Victor-"

"You really love this John, don't you?" Sherlock nodded, knowing it was irrational to love someone he had never actually met before. Victor knelt before him, a soft, sad smile on his lips and he gripped Sherlock's hands in his. There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Sherlock. "Then go, be happy my beautiful enigma." He kissed Sherlock once more before fading from his sight, leaving him cold and alone, lost in his own memory.

"Hey Sherlock. It's me again. God, I feel like an idiot, talking to your body like this." Sherlock fled from the flat, John's voice shaking his mind palace as he ran, hunting for the front door. "I don't even know if you can hear me, much less which one of you is listening."

"John!"

"I don't really care which of you is listening, to be honest. I'm going to say it anyways." Sherlock froze, coming to a halt just before a massive pair of doors. He had found the exit, but wouldn't leave if John was about to tell him he had given up. "God, I'm so sorry. I pushed you and now you're back here." A strange, tingling weight squeezed his hand and he knew he was just on the brink of consciousness.

"John, I'm here."

"I-I love you Sherlock." Sherlock's body heaved with a relieved sob as he reached for the door.

"I'm coming home John."