“You. Repel. Me”
There was disgust in his voice. It dripped from ever word and he struggled to contain himself in the face of Kitty Riley. The press were all revolting creatures but she had done wrong in ways that could never be expressed. She had embodied his past in ways that could never be explained with the fervor it made the detective feel.
She had tried to trick him. It was enough of a shot at his genius alone, but what really bothered him was how she had tried. He could have walked away, he should have walked away. If he had maybe he wouldn’t have made such an enemy. But he couldn’t, not with her shattering disrespect. She could have pretended to be anything and yet she stood in front of him under the façade of a fan.
She wasn’t the first to pretend to be a fan, a friend, only to turn and use him like a dog, to sniff out her issues, or make her career. Kitty had pretended to like him, pretended to adore him. But all he was to her was a meal ticket, her path into the spotlight. She would use him. And throw him aside when he no longer held any worth.
Just as Sebastian Wilkes had done a year before.
“Hey buddy, how are you?…” was how the email started…. Buddy….as if they had ever been friends. As if Sebastian had not called him a freak. But none of that mattered because Sebastian needed Sherlock’s skills. But like an idiot….like the big idiot he was Sherlock had gone to help the man, tried to be his friend, called him Seb. He had clung to the thought of friendship and Seb hadn’t even been able to lie to him. He said it right to John…He hated Sherlock, everyone at Uni had. Sherlock had simply flinched away. Not surprised though.
It never surprised him anymore…. But it still hurt.
Sherlock stood of the rooftop, looking out at the twinkling lights of the London buildings. The cool night air chilled him to the bone, and yet he ignored it. Just like he ignored that pain.
Because before John he was sure that the scraps of friendship…it was all he was going to get. Being needed, useful….meant he wouldn’t be tossed away and that was as good as it was going to get. Until of course John. John was his exception. And always would be. John gave him the strength to tell her, tell Kitty Riley, that she repelled him. To tell her he didn’t need her scraps of false adoration.
Sherlock let out a slow sigh as he closed his eyes. He shivered a bit, his grey coat wasn’t enough to keep out the cold that seeped through. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t been eating. Maybe it was because his body didn’t have the strength. Not even the thought of his blond haired soldier could warm him anymore.
Or maybe it was because he was remembering her.
“Katherine. “ The word slipped from his cupid bow lips falling dead before him in the still air. Nobody there to head the word except his own cold ears. The name made his shivers intensify until they raked his body. His opened his eyes and looked down at the street below him, clenching his fists. The view from the top of St. Barts Hospital was familiar and unsettling… It had been years since he stood there and looked down at John. It had been years since the tears had slid down his cheeks as he lied to the soldier. But as the wind whipped at his cheeks and pulled on his coat the thought crossed his mind. The thought that was so dark….so painful that he would never say it out loud.
Maybe he should have just jumped.
Because if Katherine had taught him anything, it was that they all turned. Even the ones who were supposed to be there for you, who were supposed to help.
“William. You have to want the help.” The whisper seemed to be carried in the wind, and licked at his ear in a way that, if he wasn’t already shaking, would make him shudder.
His jaw hardened as he turned on the ledge. Turned around to look at the empty roof where he expected the woman to be. Of course she wasn’t there.
The night seemed to settle into a static cold. The wind no longer pulled at him. Or if it did he didn’t feel it. Now he was looking at the spot where she should have been. Where he heard her. Where she wasn’t.
He let out a pained noise as he shut his eyes, almost not realizing that the noise came from him. After a long moment he took a step forwards. For the split second between stepping and touching ground he had forgotten he had turned around, and he didn’t expect the impact of the rooftop. It startled him and shook him, jarring his joints that were knocked together by the straight leg landing.
With a sigh he slid down the small wall that separated him from the street below and pulled the pack of cellophane covered cigarettes from his pocket. With shaking hands he unwrapped the pack. He hadn’t divulged in the nasty habit in quite a long time. But now was the time. With a shaking hand he pulled out the slim stick of cancer and placed it between his lips. Using his hands to shield it from the wind, he lit it with the other and took a long drag.
A sense of calm washed over him. And he laid his head back on the small wall, letting the smoke pass back through his lips with an adjoined sigh.