Fight for Me

Chapter 60

Pain. That was the first thing Lydia became conscious of as she stirred from her slumber. A thumping headache now dominating all bodily sensations clouded her thoughts and made it near impossible to think.

But she nonetheless forced her eyes open, thankful for the thick curtains of Sherlock's bedroom that blocked out the light of the sun she didn't realise hadn't yet risen. The first shape she was able to make out in the dark room was the face of Sherlock sleeping beside her. She couldn't recall ever having actually seen him sleeping before. As she observed his face, she realised how peaceful it looked in his slumber, making him look much younger than he actually was.

But her admiration was cut short when she finally fully comprehended that she and Sherlock were sleeping in the same bed together. It wasn't as though this were a new experience, she was starting to find being in Sherlock's arms was the most relaxed she had ever felt. But usually she had some sort of recollection of the night before.

In a panic, she pulled back the sheets to make sure she was fully clothed, restraining a sigh of relief when she confirmed nothing had happened. However, the jostling of the duvet caused an object fall into the dip between their two bodies. With a frown, Lydia went to pick it up and examine it, pulling her hand away as though it had burnt her upon realising that it was a single thorned blood-red rose.

Her eyes scanned the room in a panic, as though she expecting her killer to be in the very room. But she did not relax at all when she confirmed she and Sherlock were alone.

She was a fool to think she could escape the Rose Foundation, yet this was a phrase that she had to keep reminding herself of. Every time she thought herself gaining freedom, they always found away to reattach her strings. She had hoped with the number of higher ranked members of the organisation that Lestrade had rounded up that she would no longer have to worry. But now she had confirmation that she was still in their grasp and she had no doubts that they would make her pay for the damage she had done.

Her gaze flickered over to the sleeping detective next to her, blissfully unaware to the threat to Lydia's life. And he had to remain that way. He had been dragged into this fight between her and the Rose Foundation without fully realising the dangers and Lydia was sure he would not back out now upon discovering how dangerous it really was. He had already nearly been killed, and would have been had it not been Lydia behind the trigger.

Lydia felt hot tears welling up in her eyes as she finally understood that the life she desired with Sherlock could never be. If she stayed with him, she would constantly be putting him and John at risk, not to mention asking Sherlock to care about a woman who was already as good as dead. It would be the hardest thing she would ever do, but she had to let him go.

Moving as slowly and carefully as possible so as to not wake Sherlock, Lydia slipped out from under his grasp and grabbed a change of clothes, stuffing the rest into a small bag that also contained her savings from Speedy's as well as the little money she had managed to retain before that. She took the rose as well, fearing that Sherlock would deduce what had happened upon seeing the cursed flower.

She didn't know where she would go, but anywhere was better than 221B. First, she needed to get off the drink then she could start searching for whoever it was in the Foundation that was still walking free. Once she eliminated those trying to kill her, she could return to Sherlock's side if he was willing to take her back.

After changing and downing a few pain pills to deal with her headache, Lydia slipped out of the flat before either John or Sherlock woke.

When Sherlock finally stirred, he found his bed empty. Not used to waking up after Lydia, Sherlock frowned and felt to see if the bed was still warm. With the sheets being cool to his touch, he concluded that she must have gotten up a while ago, at least fifteen minutes he would wager. As he ran his fingers down the spot she occupied and breathed in the muted honeysuckle scent of her cheap perfume. But there was something else lingering in the air which he was fairly certain was rose.

Sherlock climbed out of bed and pulled on one of his dressing gowns, tying it around his waist. He knew that he was going to have to discuss last night with Lydia, but for some reason his heart felt light and he found a smile creeping up upon his features. He felt happy.

It wasn't an emotion he was particularly familiar with and, when he did feel happy, it was fleeting, evanescent. But since confessing to Lydia, he found that it had grown much more frequent, even when Lydia was at the hospital and he was out solving crimes. He had no doubt that even John had picked up on this change, but at least he hadn't said anything about it.

A yawn escaped Sherlock's lips as he ventured out into the flat, wondering what Lydia was up to so early. It seemed likely that she was making breakfast for the flat, the promise of her cooking making his mouth water even if the smells had yet to reach him.

However as Sherlock stepped out into the kitchen, there was no sight of Lydia anywhere. Panic washed through him as he desperately knocked on the door to the loo, hoping that she was hiding out of sight in there. But when there was no response, Sherlock typed out a quick text in vain, praying that she had stepped out for a walk or perhaps was downstairs visiting Mrs. Hudson.

The harsh sound of a mobile vibrating on top of wooden table filled the otherwise empty flat and Sherlock hurried over to the coffee table, where Lydia's mobile sat amidst the strewn papers and books. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs as Sherlock's fingers wrapped around her mobile, his heart clenching painfully. John appeared at the foot of the stairs, doing a double take as he took in Sherlock's defeated posture.

"Morning," he mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Where's Lydia?"

"Gone." Sherlock's voice sounded foreign, even to himself. The words too harsh, too emotional to have fallen from his lips. He hated that that was what Lydia had degraded him too. After all, wasn't sentiment merely a hormonal fluctuation that had no real significance? How had he allowed his emotions to get so far, why had he let them prevail while she was away?

"Sherlock? What do you mean she's gone?" John demanded, his voice raised in a manner that informed Sherlock that he must have been repeating himself after having received no response from the distant detective.

"It means she's no longer present, departed, left the flat," Sherlock snapped, throwing Lydia's mobile harshly onto the coffee table as he rose from the couch.

John's brows furrowed as he fought the comprehend what his friend was telling him. "But why would she leave? Sherlock, what the hell did you do to her?"

Sherlock turned on his friend, his words venomous, "why do you assume it was something I did?"

"Well, I certainly did not do anything to offend her and she wouldn't just up and leave without a reason. Was it because you were late to the hospital yesterday? Surely she understood once she received your texts... you didn't text her, did you?"

"Not exactly, but I-"

"Sherlock, you arse! You told me that you had it taken care of!"

"I did, but then I got wrapped up in the case, I apologised to her when I got to the hospital, I assure you. She was upset, but certainly not enough to disappear into thin air!"

"Christ, Sherlock, how can you be so bloody stupid? I'm going to phone Zoe, maybe she went to visit Lawrence in the hospital. If she's not there, then you better bloody find her!"

-

(A/N): Will I ever let them be happy together? Maybe, maybe not. I again apologise for this chapter being late but I'm afraid that might be the norm at this point. However, I do hope that you enjoyed this chapter!