Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Sherlock.

Author's notes: The definitions and synonyms in the summary were taken from Wikipedia and dictionary dot com respectively. Story contains very minor spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall.

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Maelstrom

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Sherlock hasn't expected it to haunt him. In those endless moments before he stepped off the ledge (out of his life) he tried to imagine what it'd feel like. He didn't have a noun for it but there were verbs (fall. sweep. tear). The nouns came later, accompanied by strangled words, maimed words, less-than-words (horror. unwant. wh-). They keep echoing around in his mind, mocking him.

The step off the roof was a step towards freedom and destruction. He was mostly aware of how it hurt. Hurt in his body, hurt in his mind, hurt in his friends. He set out not only to destroy an evil man's poisonous tendrils but also the light of a man who was pure (no longer a conductor of light from that moment on). A man who would have saved him if either of them had known how (or that. At all.).

The man in question is a man Sherlock needs to forget (temporarily, equals eternity) in order to get back to him (eventually, equals eternity).

He has never been so alone. The fall (sweep, tear, horror, unwant) is haunting him. There is no light to chase away the darkness (eternity is saturnine). The world has lost its known parameters (too big, too empty), space is closing in on him (cold, unbreathable, endless).

In his darkest moments he can't stop thinking of the man he needed to forget. The man he's robbed of his light (a single step was all it took). He's sorry (hurts in his body, hurts in his mind). He closes his eyes and feels the wind rushing by (tear) and wishes he could stop it all, go back in time, find a different solution (unwant. undo. regret).

He tries not to close his eyes too often, there's enough darkness around him anyway (cold, saturnine, endless). He needs to breathe, to focus (he needs light. Knows one can't get everything one wants. Everything has a price). If the fall keeps haunting him, he won't be able to look forward (equals more eternity, unbreathable). The biggest enemy he could have is himself.

So he forces himself to forget the fall and the light. He knew it'd be hard. He knew he'd possibly break in a way he'd never have thought possible (or that. At all).

It doesn't matter. He's taken the first step, the one which was the most difficult of all steps (sweep, tear); now he needs to keep going. Freedom for the price of destruction (as often is specific to human societies).

Later, he realizes he's been stupid. He will need to close his eyes at one point. Maybe it was wrong to try and forget the man who was pure. Maybe he was the only light Sherlock was going to have (at all). Taking the next step and another, away from the man who would have saved him means leaving a part of the destruction behind (simultaneously taking a part of it with him, undeniably), but also, impossibly, means heading towards freedom and back to his life (interrupted, come to a complete stop: equals eternity). He doesn't know whether he'll be welcome (unwant, horror, HORROR) if he gets back. He can't think about that however (unbreathable). He needs to focus.

He finds he can balance the darkness and the memory of his light if he concentrates (keeping space at bay, keeping him breathing), at least on good days (good being a relative term).

He's been called a machine once. He doesn't think it's very fitting now, though he doesn't feel human either these days. He doesn't have a name for what he is, only adjectives (forlorn, cruel. Hollow.)

When he finally meets- he needs to get used to saying that name again, John (a sigh, a whisper), the other man's light is feeble and far, diminished after two years of mourning. There's much (confusion anger hurt concern disbelief wild joy and) grief in his eyes.

John's still easily readable (for a moment, he's ready to punch). He wants to be distant, an instant instinct to protect himself, but his eyes roam over his friend (who still feels the dreadful eternity breathing down his neck; equals horror. The next moments are crucial.) and his expression softens.

He demands explanations. Wants to know how someone can do what Sherlock did. How. Why. But mostly how.

- If anyone could, it's me. You said it before. (machine)

- About that-

- I know.

- Sherlock... (Voice frail, all of a sudden, choked. Belated impact.)

- I apologize. I need you to listen.

- I don't have a choice, do I. (Trembling, John listens. Caleidoscope face. When he's finished, Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment. The darkness is receding. No wind. He feels a bit less hollow.)

Healing will take time, both of them are aware. But Sherlock senses that there are other words now, tentative but undeniable, words he'll be able to use soon: mend. Home. Forgiveness.

(Relief.)

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The End

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Thank you for reading.

I'm not a native English speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes.

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