An Affair to Remember-Sherlock Fanfic

The Nearest Thing to Heaven

John ran down the street in a happy daze, for it was six months later and today he was to meet Sherlock Holmes at the top of the Empire State Building where they would eventually get married. Breathlessly he ran into the posh shop where he used to buy his suits when he was with Sharon and he hadn’t even been there five seconds when two sales girls pounced on him, “John, how nice to see you. It’s been so long. What do you want to look at today? We just got in a shipment of Armani Suits…”

John smiled, “I just need a simple, inexpensive dress shirt.”

The girls looked at each other in surprise and for the first time they looked at what he was wearing, John noticed their expressions and laughed, “I know, I know I didn’t get it here.”

The girls looked at each other again and smiled, “Okay, I will go and get you a selection”, one of the girls said as she disappeared in the back.

Once she was out of earshot the sales girl picked up the phone and dialed a number, “Hello, Sharon, is that you? Well, I thought I’d just tell you that John is here.”

The voice on the other end paused and said, “Just keep him busy I will be right there.”

John sighed as the sales girl brought out one outlandish shirt after another until he firmly said, “I just want a simple white dress shirt.”

John looked at the white shirt that the sales girl held out to him and he said, “That’s fine, and I will pay cash.”

Both girls looked at each again, “Cash? You don’t want it on you and Sharon’s account?”

John shook his head, “No, just the one shirt please and I will pay cash. I know I know you think I am crazy, but I am getting married…”

John stopped talking when he saw Sharon coming through the double doors and he shook his finger at the girls, “Now, I know why you tried to hold me here,” he said as Sharon approached him.

“John, you look wonderful? How are you?” Sharon asked in an attempt to hide her excitement at seeing him again.

John took her hands in his and smiled sadly, “Sharon, I’m fine, but I’m in a hurry, I’m going to meet someone and we’re to be…”

“Married?” Sharon asked.

John nodded, as he kissed Sharon on the side of the cheek. Afterwards she looked down for a moment and then caressed John’s face, “I’m happy for you and just keep in mind if you ever need me I’ll be there for you.”

John nodded and then grabbed his shirt and waved goodbye as he ran out of the shop and down the street. As he ran closer to his destination, John felt as if the frantic pace of the city were keeping time to the beating of his heart. He ran parallel down the side walk so that he could see the Empire State Building from the opposite side of the street, “I’m almost there, I am almost there, Sherlock. Sherlock is the closest thing to heaven I will ever find, “John thought as he hastily looked both ways and darted out into the street. He never heard the car as it tried to screech to a halt, he never felt the impact of metal against flesh, and he never felt Sherlock’s anger as he waited and waited for him hour after hour for a person that would never show up.

The rain pounded against the panes of glass that looked out onto the observation deck as Sherlock paced back and forth hour after hour, growing hurt and angry with each step he took. Around midnight a guard came over, “Sir, we’re closing. Sir?”

“What?” Sherlock snapped.

The guard cleared his throat, “Sir, we are closing you are going to have to leave.”

Sherlock nodded and rode the elevator down, and as the car sank further and further down, Sherlock felt that he had been played and he hated himself for ever letting his heart run his head.

John groaned in agony and tossed back and forth on the hospital bed, “God, please help me, Sherlock, Sherlock, please…where are you Sherlock?” John screamed just before he lost consciousness.

Sharon wept at the foot of his bed at the anguish that John was suffering and when the Doctor came in and told Sharon that it was possible that John would never walk again, she wept once more.  A few weeks later John was released from the hospital with a grim diagnosis, as to whether he would be able to use his legs again and as Sharon wheeled John from the hospital she said, “John, why don’t you let me tell him?”

John shook his head, “No, I want to be able to walk to him.”

Sharon sighed, “At least let me help you out.”

John shook his head again, “No, if I let you help me out, he wouldn’t like it and if I got well and left you for him, you wouldn’t like it. Plus, it’s enough that you’re flying back to London with me. Not to mention the job you got me as a consulting physician job in a clinic.”

Sharon patted John’s arm, “Okay, John.”

Even though they were in first class, John was intensely uncomfortable during the entire flight, so that by the time the plane landed, a fine sheen of sweat stood out on his upper lip, for even the pain killers weren’t helping.

“John, are you okay?” Sharon asked as she wheeled John through the airport and to a waiting cab.

“I’m fine just help get me to my flat, and I will be fine,” John said through gritted teeth.

***

Sherlock was glad to back in London, far away from everything that reminded him of John for even though he and Sherlock were going to go back to London after Sherlock’s case was over, Sherlock didn’t know John’s London address and John didn’t know his, so it was as if the cruise had never taken place. Sherlock paused outside the gallery where his paintings were displayed and then sighed and went in.

The gallery owner, who he had solved a fraud case for a few years earlier greeted Sherlock with open arms, “Sherlock, come in, come in, I just sold another one of your women.”

Sherlock chuckled as several patrons turned to stare at him, “Marco, which one did you sell?”

“The one with the ample chest, it was not your best work, but it was full of anger and appealed to the buyer, so that’s all that matters, correcto?” Marco said as he walked over to another painting. His expression sobered, as he looked at a the painting of a young man in a cardigan sweater. Sun light bathed his face, as an older woman stood by his side, with her hands on his shoulders. “Now this painting is genius, it has an almost esoteric quality to it. The painter has left the angry stage and has come full circle to resolution and forgiveness.”

Sherlock nodded, “I was clean when I painted that one.”

Marco patted Sherlock on the shoulder, “Aw, my dear Sherlock, the art process is a painful one, is it not?”

Sherlock didn’t answer for his throat felt swollen, and his eyes filled with tears, “John, why did you abandon me? What did I ever do to deserve the way you treated me?” Sherlock thought sadly.