[It takes until late morning. Late morning to remove all of the metal bits inside Stein, late morning to realize that the man is dead, that he's been dead for a while as John just worked, butchered his brain per instruction. It's late morning when everything snaps into sharp focus, when the pervasive sense of unreality relents, and everything is bright, crisp, clear, real.
There's a body on the floor of the aquarium and blood on John's hands. Why had he ever...?
John, look at me. Listen to me. Mary is there, crouched in front of him, hands on his shoulders. You need to call someone. You need to call Sherlock.
Sherlock, who is real, who is not just some fantasy in his head. Who's in trouble, who's been killing himself with drugs, whom he put in hospital... who's going to die for real because of John and his idiocy, his temper. Who has died for him... in more ways than one.
His hands are shaking, and he just does voice-to-text.]
Sherlock, this is all real. It's real. Jesus Christ, it's real. It's real.
He sees this and he sighs, eyes closed. He hoped, now in obvious futility, that John wouldn't proceed with that doomed surgery. At least Stein apparently knew it was likely be to fatal, if what Kid mentioned was to be believed, so his likelihood of return is significant. That might alleviate some of John's guilt, but perhaps not all.]
Surgery complications?
[He's not in the right frame of mind for this conversation. He's high as a literal kite.]
[Pierce but not Barnes, even though John had said his friend had been the Soldier when last they spoke. That's worrying, it likely means there's an assassin out there under orders, that'll have to be dealt with.]
Two mistakes does not make you incompetent.
[He has no idea that he's echoing Mary.]
Neither mistake is irreversible. Stein knew the risks, he will revive, Pierce can be caught at a different time.
If you're going to talk to Mary, might I suggest turning off voice to text, I'm sure you'd rather keep that conversation private.
[He knows it's not healthy that John sees his dead wife, but he can't help but wonder... what does she say about him? How virulently does she condemn him for what he did to her? His world spins in a dizzying way, a panic attack rearing its ugly head at the very thought. His breathing comes too shallow, his hands shake too badly to type.
He's suddenly paralysed by the fear of getting it wrong again. He's miscalculated so many times recently, to such devastating effect, he almost doesn't trust his own mind. It would be better if he was gone, better for them all.
No. No. Got to hold it together long enough to save John, have to save John Watson.]
Not your fault. [It's taking longer to type than he would like with his hands shaking like this, so he switches to voice to text.] It's like when we were forced to murder, when I killed two men under the influence of this town. You were under the influence also, you cannot apply your usual moral compass or culpability to this situation.
[Aren't they always just in agreement? He remembers sitting in 221B after finding out that Mary was an assassin, the way they'd smirked at each other, and he'd lashed out, angry, telling them they should have got married.
To be fair, you and Sherlock were always a bit of a package deal once he turned back up, Mary points out. Plus, psychopaths. John shoots a Look at her and she goes quiet.]
I knew. Mary kept telling me not to do it. I knew and I didn't listen to her. How is that not my fault?
[Fine. He knows about Mary. Fine.
Why did you call him?
Because he needed to confess to someone.
No. Why did you call him?
Because there's no one else. He's pushed everyone else away. He's been trying to push everyone to arms-length, even and especially Sherlock.
John.]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. It's not your concern.
[John Watson, if you hang up on him, I swear to God...]
It shouldn't be your concern. I blamed you for something that wasn't your fault, Sherlock. This? This is my fault. Everything's been my fault. Everything.
You didn't kill Mary. Mary died saving you... same as I would've done if I'd got there first. I should've been there first.
There's nothing new about that, John is wrong on a lot of things and with seemingly effortless regularity. But seeing this particular wrong statement is a relief of a magnitude that cannot be described, because if he no longer blames Sherlock then it might be easier to get through to him, to save him.
Of course, he is wrong. Sherlock shouldn't have taunted her, shouldn't have given in to his stupid impulse to always have to have the last word and prove just how clever he is. Her death, her blood, will always be on his hands.
He has to be careful, he can't lie here and he doesn't want John to see any of his own personal issues. Not now. Not ever.]
Everything about you is my concern, John.
[Well, that came out slightly more sentimental than intended, but not exactly a lie.]
You made a mistake but you cannot let this destroy you, Mary wouldn't want that.
[John is quiet for a moment. This still doesn't feel right. But it is what it is... crying about it isn't going to fix it. Just like it didn't fix Mary. Like it hasn't fixed Sherlock.]
Where are you? I'm still coming north.
[He needs to get to Sherlock, monitor him. He's a junkie; the man needs a doctor looking after him.]
[John's seen the DVD, hasn't he? He must know what Sherlock is doing, Mary would know. He chooses not to answer that question; silence, after all, isn't a lie.]
I'm near the vet's office, heading towards the school.
[Will John come? Knowing where Sherlock will be, knowing who he's trying to track down, will it work?]
[Not again. Oh, god, not here, too. He jerks his head up to stare at Mary. This is her fault, but it's his fault, too. She keeps thinking he's some knight in shining armor, and Sherlock believes her.]
Sherlock, don't. Don't do this. I'm coming. Don't you dare get near him. He'll kill you. You don't need to do this again. Mary was wrong. She was wrong, all right? I'm not a hero. I'm not. That's you. It always has been. Don't do this, please. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the man she thinks I am.
Mary was always much cleverer than you or me, I think she knew what she was talking about.
[John is obviously wrong. Sherlock a hero, nothing could be further from the truth. It's evidenced that she is right, has always been right, when John says he's coming. He wouldn't be if the Joker wasn't involved, and that just spurs Sherlock further.]
Incorrect, John. But why break the habit of a lifetime?
[Incorrect on all counts, though mostly him not being a good man. He's done all he can do now, and the lack of an ability to lie makes this harder, so he'll go. John will come to the school, or he won't. Sherlock will save him, or he won't.]
[Sherlock's hung up. It's like the hospital too many years ago. Except this time he does for real and maybe doesn't come back. He beats the wall of the aquarium, keeping at it until his knuckles start to bleed.]
Edited (I can remember when this message was sent...) 2017-02-09 02:58 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@jwatson; text; Morning 208 (cw: discussion of character death)
There's a body on the floor of the aquarium and blood on John's hands. Why had he ever...?
John, look at me. Listen to me. Mary is there, crouched in front of him, hands on his shoulders. You need to call someone. You need to call Sherlock.
Sherlock, who is real, who is not just some fantasy in his head. Who's in trouble, who's been killing himself with drugs, whom he put in hospital... who's going to die for real because of John and his idiocy, his temper. Who has died for him... in more ways than one.
His hands are shaking, and he just does voice-to-text.]
Sherlock, this is all real. It's real. Jesus Christ, it's real. It's real.
[There's a pause.]
Dr. Stein is dead. I killed him, Sherlock.
text; cw: drugs
He sees this and he sighs, eyes closed. He hoped, now in obvious futility, that John wouldn't proceed with that doomed surgery. At least Stein apparently knew it was likely be to fatal, if what Kid mentioned was to be believed, so his likelihood of return is significant. That might alleviate some of John's guilt, but perhaps not all.]
Surgery complications?
[He's not in the right frame of mind for this conversation. He's high as a literal kite.]
no subject
[Except some part of him must have known. Mary had kept telling him to call Sherlock, think about it, wait.
Tell him what you meant to tell him.]
I'm not fit to practice. Pierce was right. He was here and I just let him walk away, too.
[John, one mistake under a death price... well, two mistakes. That doesn't mean you're incompetent. And that's not what you were going to say.]
no subject
Two mistakes does not make you incompetent.
[He has no idea that he's echoing Mary.]
Neither mistake is irreversible. Stein knew the risks, he will revive, Pierce can be caught at a different time.
no subject
John, just tell him. He knows you saw the DVD. He thinks you still hate him. Tell him you don't.]
Even if he does... I still did it, Sherlock. It was real. He wasn't doing anything, wasn't putting anyone in harm's way. He wasn't a combatant.
[Every piece of his moral character is screaming at him.
You weren't in your right mind, John. You know how this place is. And you're still not telling him.]
How the hell am I meant to work that into the conversation?
[Retrospectively, voice to text may not have been the best idea you've had, my darling.]
cw: suicidal ideation
If you're going to talk to Mary, might I suggest turning off voice to text, I'm sure you'd rather keep that conversation private.
[He knows it's not healthy that John sees his dead wife, but he can't help but wonder... what does she say about him? How virulently does she condemn him for what he did to her? His world spins in a dizzying way, a panic attack rearing its ugly head at the very thought. His breathing comes too shallow, his hands shake too badly to type.
He's suddenly paralysed by the fear of getting it wrong again. He's miscalculated so many times recently, to such devastating effect, he almost doesn't trust his own mind. It would be better if he was gone, better for them all.
No. No. Got to hold it together long enough to save John, have to save John Watson.]
Not your fault. [It's taking longer to type than he would like with his hands shaking like this, so he switches to voice to text.] It's like when we were forced to murder, when I killed two men under the influence of this town. You were under the influence also, you cannot apply your usual moral compass or culpability to this situation.
no subject
To be fair, you and Sherlock were always a bit of a package deal once he turned back up, Mary points out. Plus, psychopaths. John shoots a Look at her and she goes quiet.]
I knew. Mary kept telling me not to do it. I knew and I didn't listen to her. How is that not my fault?
[Fine. He knows about Mary. Fine.
Why did you call him?
Because he needed to confess to someone.
No. Why did you call him?
Because there's no one else. He's pushed everyone else away. He's been trying to push everyone to arms-length, even and especially Sherlock.
John.]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. It's not your concern.
[John Watson, if you hang up on him, I swear to God...]
It shouldn't be your concern. I blamed you for something that wasn't your fault, Sherlock. This? This is my fault. Everything's been my fault. Everything.
You didn't kill Mary. Mary died saving you... same as I would've done if I'd got there first. I should've been there first.
no subject
There's nothing new about that, John is wrong on a lot of things and with seemingly effortless regularity. But seeing this particular wrong statement is a relief of a magnitude that cannot be described, because if he no longer blames Sherlock then it might be easier to get through to him, to save him.
Of course, he is wrong. Sherlock shouldn't have taunted her, shouldn't have given in to his stupid impulse to always have to have the last word and prove just how clever he is. Her death, her blood, will always be on his hands.
He has to be careful, he can't lie here and he doesn't want John to see any of his own personal issues. Not now. Not ever.]
Everything about you is my concern, John.
[Well, that came out slightly more sentimental than intended, but not exactly a lie.]
You made a mistake but you cannot let this destroy you, Mary wouldn't want that.
no subject
Of course he's right. He's always right.
[John is quiet for a moment. This still doesn't feel right. But it is what it is... crying about it isn't going to fix it. Just like it didn't fix Mary. Like it hasn't fixed Sherlock.]
Where are you? I'm still coming north.
[He needs to get to Sherlock, monitor him. He's a junkie; the man needs a doctor looking after him.]
no subject
On my way to the Joker.
[...Lying is so useful. He hates the truth sometimes.]
Find Solomons.
[He needs a friend, a real friend. Barnes is apparently a killer and AWOL, so Solomons it is.]
no subject
[John needs to apologize to Alfie for being a brusque idiot, but that's to one side.]
no subject
I'm near the vet's office, heading towards the school.
[Will John come? Knowing where Sherlock will be, knowing who he's trying to track down, will it work?]
no subject
Sherlock, don't. Don't do this. I'm coming. Don't you dare get near him. He'll kill you. You don't need to do this again. Mary was wrong. She was wrong, all right? I'm not a hero. I'm not. That's you. It always has been. Don't do this, please. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the man she thinks I am.
no subject
[John is obviously wrong. Sherlock a hero, nothing could be further from the truth. It's evidenced that she is right, has always been right, when John says he's coming. He wouldn't be if the Joker wasn't involved, and that just spurs Sherlock further.]
The school, John.
no subject
[Tell him that you love him.]
Please don't do this. I'm not a good man. You don't need to kill yourself for me.
no subject
[Incorrect on all counts, though mostly him not being a good man. He's done all he can do now, and the lack of an ability to lie makes this harder, so he'll go. John will come to the school, or he won't. Sherlock will save him, or he won't.]
Goodbye, John.
no subject
[Sherlock's hung up. It's like the hospital too many years ago. Except this time he does for real and maybe doesn't come back. He beats the wall of the aquarium, keeping at it until his knuckles start to bleed.]