LVI • 56

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John's POV:

I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that Sebastian was already out. He'd been arrested yesterday afternoon. 20 hours, at most, he'd been in there.
I wanted him to pay for what he'd done to you and I knew Sherlock would do anything to get him back in prison.
Because of that, I needed to keep an eye on him. He'd do something stupid in the blink of an eye if it meant getting revenge on that scum.
I watched him for several minutes- he was absorbed in the file Mycroft had given him. Every so often, he laid the papers down on his lap and closed his eyes, his fingertips pressed together. I saw his eyes moving under their lids, and I knew he was thinking hard. His habits hadn't changed in the slightest.
Eventually, I got up to get ready for work. I wanted to go sit with you, but the office needed me.
"I'm going to work, Sherlock." I said.
He ignored me, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't even hear me.
Well, I tried.

******

Sherlock's POV:

I heard John leave and set the paper I was scrutinising down. The truth was, I'd read it three times over and I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about what would've happened if I hadn't been gone.
I buried my face in my hands, overwhelmed by grief. I felt so guilty. I felt guilty for being gone, for not having been able to help you. I knew that Sebastian would have taken his anger out on me had I been there. And that would've been fine. But you'd done nothing and I felt so bad for everything that I'd put you and John through.
I set the papers aside and got up, grabbing my coat and scarf on my way out.
I wrapped the scarf around my neck and buried my hands in my coat pockets. It was a freezing day, but I needed the walk to clear my head. Although I had had no planned route, I soon found myself at Bart's.
I went inside and took the lift, eventually stopping by your door.
You looked no different. You still lay in the same position, the machines still sounded their same steady beeping.
I stood over you now, and found my thumb running over your cheek, your bottom lip.
I just wanted you to wake up.
I remembered when I could put you to sleep by playing, but I'd known you'd wake up in a matter of hours. This was the one time I'd put you to sleep accidentally and you weren't waking up.
I needed to stop blaming myself. I knew John had just been angry when he blamed me this morning.
And yet, I couldn't help but take the blame. You'd be fine and I'd be dead if I'd been here in the first place, and that was so much better of an alternative. It would've been fine because I knew my line of work and my habit of throwing myself into dangerous situations was a death wish. I knew I'd likely die prematurely. I didn't care about that- I just wanted you and John and Mrs. Hudson and Molly and Mum and Dad and Lestrade and yes, even Mycroft to be safe.
The people that I cared about were the ones who mattered.
I turned away in frustration. If I couldn't wake you up, I sure could find the scum who'd done this to you and make him pay.

I had to walk a mile in his shoes if I were to find him.
Where would he go?
He'd just escaped prison, so he'd likely go into hiding, but where?
Might he have gone back to Dublin? Perhaps, but it seemed unlikely since it probably reminded him of his family. Psychology says that a person will, even unintentionally, avoid a person or a place that brings back bad memories.
And yet, this man was on the run- he may have gone back home purely because most people would rule that out.
I ran through several other scenarios in my head, but none seemed as likely as Dublin.
I had left the hospital and continued walking around the city. It had been several hours by the time I neared the flat.
I was prepared to leave for Dublin this evening, but I couldn't have John following me.
I pondered how to approach the subject as I unlocked the front door.
As I opened it, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a camera flash.

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