Don't cry, a sherlock holmes fanfic

Don't Cry

Dust stirred in the room as the desperate detective grabbed anything that would fit into his battered old suitcase. He needed to get out, needed to leave before Watson came round again. Watson, his Watson. No. Not anymore. Not since she had come. Holmes remembered clearly the passionate look his ex-love would give Mary, the look similar to the one Watson would give him during those long nights of love making. He stopped briefly, his hand coming to rest on the freshest love mark on his neck. Even that was fading, like it knew it was something of the past.

The smell of your skin lingers on me now

You're probably on your flight back to your home town

I need some shelter of my own protection baby

To be with myself and centre

Clarity, Peace, Serenity

Holmes could remember clearly the look of pain on Watson's face when he told him he was leaving. It broke his heart to do so but it was clear it had to be done.

"Holmes, Holmes please no. Please don't do this. I love you Holmes. Don't leave me I beg you." Watson had begged, sliding from the chair and sinking to his knees before Sherlock, resting his hands on the other man's knee. He stared up at his lover with pleading eyes, tears already streaming down his face. Holmes forced himself to look away.

"I'm sorry John. I can't go on like this anymore. It's not fair on either of us, nor Mary. I've seen the way you two look at each other. You two more in love than we could ever be John. I want you to be happy."

"I can't be happy without you Sherlock. I need you and you need me," He tried to laugh, pushing this whole thing off as a joke, "You'd be long dead if it wasn't for me Holmes."

Sherlock gazed down into his lover's… no his friend's pain filled face and as much as it broke his heart, he forced himself to continue. He stood, knocking Watson backwards and walked over to a large oak cabinet. He poured himself a drink, not caring what it was, and downed it in one. "I'll manage."

"No," Watson protested, running to Holmes and taking his arm, "Holmes please, don't do this. I love you."

"You love Mary," the detective countered. "You'll marry her and have many wonderful children, a proper family. I know that. I know you too well John."

"But I can still have you!" Watson begged," Mary doesn't need to know! We can keep this a secret!"

WHACK!

The sound of Holmes' hand smacking Watson around the face resounded throughout the silent house.

"I WILL NOT BE YOUR SECRET!" Holmes screamed at a stunned Watson. "It's not fair on your family and it's not fair on ME! Now just get out! GET OUT!" Holmes seized Watson by the back of his jacket, dragged him down the stairs and threw him into the street. Sherlock slammed the door behind his old life before collapsing against it and bursting into tears.

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, Myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
Its time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry

Holmes knew he had no choice but to leave. He knew that if he were to stay he would have to live every day watching Watson and Mary go on with their perfect, happy life. They'd have each other, their children, everything they could every want. And what would he have? Nothing. No, not nothing. He'd have a night maybe once a month of Watson. When the doctor had had a hard day and needed a quick release, or when Mary denied him, Holmes knew Watson would come to him seeking sex. That was worse than not having Watson at all.

The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps until I'm full grown
Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay

There wasn't really a lot to pack. Most of the things in the house reminded Holmes so much of Watson that he just couldn't bear to bring them with him. He'd have to start again, buy new things… "With what?" He thought. He had no money having spent it all stupidly on drink, trying to drown his feeling for Watson before he realised it was never going to happen. He had nothing, no one, nowhere to go. But he couldn't stay. Staying was completely out of the question. He might return to London one day, if he was still alive by then. But for now he needed to get out as fast as he could.

He was beginning to feel trapped in the house, trapped by the memories of what had happened in these rooms, the bed, the bath, the sofa, the floor, everywhere was a reminder of another passionate night the two had spent together. His head was spinning wildly and he stumbled to the bathroom, bending double over the toilet and wrecking but bringing up nothing but bile. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up.

I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to with you
It's personal, Myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
Its time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry

The touches, the caresses, the kisses, Holmes could still feel them all over his body and he shuddered. He wanted them to vanish, wanted to feel … nothing. He tried scrubbing at his skin ferociously the last time he had had a bath, tried to wash the feelings away. When that didn't work he thought if he allowed himself to stay filthy, the dirt would cover up the reminders. But he still felt them. And it was killing him.

Another part of him enjoyed to feelings. They were as close as he was ever going to get to having Watson again. He wanted to keep them forever but knew he couldn't live with them. They were slowly driving him crazy. One the few occasions he did get sleep he'd dream of Watson touching him, sharing his bed, loving him. He'd reach out to his John but the doctor would never be close enough to touch. And as he watched, Watson would slowly fade and Holmes would wake in a cold sweat, crying and alone.

Like the little school mate in the school yard
We'll play jacks and Uno cards
I'll be your best friend and you'll be mine
Valentine
Yes you can hold my hand if you want to
Cause I want to hold yours too
Well be playmates and lovers and share our secret worlds
But it's time for me to go home
It's getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and centre
Clarity, Peace, Serenity

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Holmes forced himself to his feet and back into his bed room. He slammed his empty suitcase closed and dragged it down the stairs and out of the house. It was dark outside and Holmes stared up at the sky, blinking slowly. It was the first time he'd been outside in months but it seemed like an eternity to Holmes. The carriage he had called for early was waiting patiently further up the street and he hurried over to his, shoving his case inside. He was about to follow it inside but froze at the sound of his name.

"Holmes!"

Sherlock turned his head slowly to face the direction of the noise. For a moment he thought he was dreaming as he watched Watson run towards him, screaming at him and he was about to stop and run back to him. Then he realised this was really and that if he did go to Watson he would never be able to leave. Using the last of his strength, Holmes pulled himself into the carriage and slammed the door. The voice of his past lover grew closer and for one terrible moment Holmes was sure Watson was going to catch up with him. But the carriage gave a lurch and started forward.

"NO!" The doctor yelled, reaching out a hand to the part of his life most important to him. "HOLMES! HOLMES PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! DON'T LEAVE ME! I'LL LEAVE MARY! I LOVE YOU!"

Holmes turned around in his seat and stared out of the back window. Watson was falling further and further behind but when he saw Holmes' face appear he found new strength and ran as hard as ever. Deep down he knew there was no way he'd catch up, that Holmes was gone forever and that it was all his fault. His heart broke at this thought and he cried loudly to the night.

"Bye Watson," Holmes whispered, pressing his hand against the window.

"Don't cry" Sherlock whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes as the carriage made its way out of London.