Pov Sherlock Holmes
Sleeplessness.
I get trouble with it since John has gone, to get marry.
Sure he couldn't go on living in his room, maybe If I gave away mine and used the rest of the floor, that grandma rented to us, number 221 of Backer Street, perhaps. maybe.
What a madness! And then. Then I should have been satisfied of the storage room of the landlady. What an insanity. Even though. if it was for John..
I repeat his name, I scribble it on a consumed paper sheet, stained by a spiteful tear I aguish dried, blending my hunger with my heart beating. This last one goes weak, after another morphine injection.
"John" - you're so everywhere, when I slip from the mattress to the carpet, believing I'm flying, you're almost seems to be here "John."
Two great handbreadth, warm, known, even better loved, lift me up again, letting me lay down.
"Your stupidity, Sherlock, is equal to your talent!" - you roar, and the perfume of your after shave intoxicates me.
I hang around your neck, but then my phalanges, as they get in delirium, rip your jerkin and shirt apart.
Your eyes are in flames between the surprise and the urgent to give me the pariah.
My mouth collides with your chest, then she's undecided between your left nipple and the right one, so it fusses with bites, kisses, obscene slipstream: this is my great craziness.
Dope myself, shatter myself, crave you, want you and. loose you.
Always.
"John".
Oh god what a shame, me who isn't shy of anything. I'm lack of breathing, lack of strength, lack of courage to face you.
I lay down in fetal position and I push you away from me, when your mouth lay gentle on my head - "Sherlock, quiet down. quiet down, I'm here now."
I wriggle like one of the laboratory's frog, hunted even after death, 'cause I am like this since you have gone, didn't you know John? Oh god, how pathetic I am, another shame, another taunt and self-pity. what am I going to be?
Even better. how have I became?
I wish to avoid you, yet I belong to you much more than before.
"John. May you forgive me? I was." - I'm in lack of air, and when I want to gain distance between us I start to give you a "may you" not a familiar "can you".
"I'd just like to ask you one question, Sherlokc" - your sobriety is simply annoying, and your face, perfect for my heart, as every shapes of you. They force me to give you my maximum attention.
I nod, deleting the little space between us that kept me in anguish.
I embrace you, slowly, I'll hear you, let me just do it, John.
In despite of all, you never push me away, you wrap me in you arms, kissing me slowly on the neck, on the chin, on the cheekbones, on the temples, than slide down and our mouths explore themselves, they get known of each other, they devour themselves.
It's dawning.
I had kept you inside me for so long that I can't mind how I'm set in the bed, where you're holding me tight, sweaty and breathless.
You did it again and again and I was hanging by the feeling you were making me feel, like it has been a lustful dream, while it was you, who were making love to me, time.. and time again.
"John. what did you want to ask me?"
I feel you're laughing over my shoulder blades.
I turn frowning to see you, a frown you love so much, you always say it to me.
"John!"
You stroke my hip then you give me a good morning kiss.
I hate you.
" I love you John."
My mind turns in a opposite way, it's a paradox only love could teach you.
"I love you too Sherlock."
If you were not so sincere, I could really hate you.
So go on, and grant me my curiosity.
"Balance. I'd like us to pledge to find one. 'Cause our paths has looked like they're divided since some months. but the real true it's the only one we discover together, Sherlock."
I'd like to shout you're never been able to fight to make this true win over your fears. I'd like to cry it out 'till my throat will bleed, eroded by to many bitter bites, since "that woman" has begun to stand in our way, John.
I shrug, I stiffen, my unwillingness overflows from my very looking, which should be lovely, over you, as it uses to be.
"I can't stop turning back to you, Sherlock, as you see."
"is it a gag? Should I laugh?"
Please heart: stop to beat, plague him with guilt, for he has broken me and killed me. But this muscle would rather to love you John, it deceives me and it doesn't mind about what I feel.
You stand up, dress up, get ready to return to your new stay, without knowing any excuse to justify your night absence away from your bridal chamber. But deceiver will become smarter and their fantasy sharpen in million trickles, like the ones branching in the latrines.
So I become fragile, in that balance you claim from me, John.
I turn into the shadow of the man who dazzled your soul, redefined it and reshaped it, but absolutely without the will of changing you .
You're improved instead.
Meanwhile I was overuled, loving you in a cocky way first, than with passion, benevolence, total affection: I want you John Watson and I can cry it out to all the good London society, which made a slave of you: the point of view changes, it's turns upside down, you're the pathetic one of course.
"you're a looser John."
Your glimpse tears myself, but my pride prevails.
You go away, shutting hard the door.
So go away.
Go and nothing else, inside me I know you'll come back, you had clearly admitted it .
Will we talk about balances again?
Your issues are weak and useless: I'd like to know the day I'll be able to shut you out from this house, which was our house, from our bed, which was our bed, from my life. which was the only life able to make us happy, John.
I know it doesn't exist, that day. I won't be the one to write it, You won't be the one to run after it, for nothing else in the world.
THE END
Thanks to Seiten Shiwa for translation :)
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