XCIX • 99

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"You never did tell me what happened." John said, after your conversation with Tim and Susana had died down.
You sighed. You'd gone over all the details in your head a thousand times, but voicing them was much harder.
"Uh, when we first got there it didn't seem like she was home. Then Sherlock said to look for the darkroom since he thought she'd be there if she were home. It didn't take long to find it and I think even he was taken aback by the extent of her obsession. He probably wasn't on high alert. We were both just kind of staring at everything in disbelief when we heard a clatter, then the next thing I know, Sherlock's on the ground-"
"You were there?" Susana cut in, alarm evident on her face.
You nodded sadly. "We had been looking for this woman for a couple of weeks."
"So you work with him?" She asked.
"Yes."
She looked like she was about to cry again.
Tim laid a hand on her shoulder. "Let her explain what happened." He said, gently.
You began talking again, this time addressing them too. "He was on the ground and I see whatever it was that knocked him out coming toward me. I think I turned more because he got it right on the back of his head, but it clipped my temple." You reached up and gently touched the now bandaged cut on the side of your head.
"When I woke up I was tied to a chair and she was trying to tie him down too, but she was having a hard time. He woke up not long after she finally succeeded and then she asked him if he could read her and what could he tell. He said..." You paused, trying to remember what he'd deduced about her. "He said that she was an attention seeker, that she'd been abused, that she was a mother and that she'd lived by the ocean. He stopped short there as though he'd had a revelation. I guess that's when he figured out that she was my mother."
"Wait a minute. She's your mother?" John interrupted you here. "I heard you say that when I came in but I figured it was some kind of a delusion that she had." He looked upset.
"Oh she had plenty of crazy ideas, but that wasn't one of them. She was definitely my mother. I remember her very vaguely now."
"Good God." He muttered.
Tim and Susana both looked rather shocked as well, but didn't say anything.
"After that she said that she was going to kill him and make me watch. When Sherlock tried to tell me who she was, she pressed the knife to his throat and said she'd kill him if he said anything. Being who he is of course, he contradicted her, said that she wanted to inflict the most pain on both of us and that slitting his throat wouldn't accomplish that. That's when she stabbed his leg." You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the pain on his face.
"Then she took off his shirt and started examining his scars, like she knew about every single one. I think she did. God, it scared me so much. He was scared too, I could see it in his eyes." You bit your lip, trying not to replay the images of his terrified eyes over and over again.
"She was taking her time looking at his back when he tried telling me who she was in Morse code."
Despite the situation, John smiled.
"What?" You asked.
"Sorry, I was just remembering the day you announced you'd be learning Morse code. You didn't stop till you'd mastered it." He chuckled and you smiled a little at the memory.
"So he told you that she was your mum?" John got you back on track.
"Yeah. He'd just confirmed that I understood when she started cutting him. She taunted him when he showed even the smallest indication that it hurt." Tears returned to your eyes now. You glanced over at his parents and saw that they too were crying.
"I don't know how much damage she did to his back but then she stabbed him right where Sebastian had shot him. He'd barely made a sound till then, but I guess he just couldn't help it anymore. I suppose it was a different kind of pain than when Alondra died, but it was just as hard to listen to."
The sound played over and over in your head until you clamped your hands over your ears, despite knowing that it wasn't external.
John pulled your hands back down and gathered you to him.
"I'm so sorry (N/N)." He murmured.
He held you there for a long moment, until you could continue your narrative.
"I finally just yelled at her to stop, but I addressed her as my mother. That completely changed her personality. I didn't know identity disorders even worked that way. I didn't know it could be so sudden. She acted like she had no idea what was going on and she didn't even know that she'd hurt him. She sounded horrified at the idea of him dying, so I only had to ask and she untied me. She even helped me slow the bleeding. He was already unconscious by then, but he woke up a little just before you got there. He said that he was sorry and that he loved me and that I shouldn't forget that if he didn't make it out. It's like he'd already decided he wasn't going to survive, like he'd already given up. That's not like him, John."
"No, it's not." He said. "I think he was probably just preparing for the worst. It was obviously painful to speak at all, so he wanted that to be what he said, just in case."
You nodded, feeling a little better. It made sense.
"You're more than just friends, aren't you?" Susana asked. "He doesn't say 'I love you' to very many people."
You felt your face turn red.
"I, uh, I guess-" You stuttered.
"She's his girlfriend." John put in.
"John!" You were sure you were beet red. "You're as bad as Mackenzie!"
He smirked. "There's no other word for it."
You buried your face in your hands, but Susana looked absolutely delighted. "I didn't think it was possible."
"It is indeed." John responded, grinning.
Even Tim smiled. "Honestly, I'm just glad he's opened up to someone." He said.
You lifted your head, hoping you weren't still terribly red.
"He's lovely, but this doesn't really need to be our main topic of conversation, does it?" You asked, hopefully.
John smiled. "Alright, fine. But you do know that this is pretty much the last thing I can still tease you about, right?"
You rolled your eyes. "You'll figure something out." You punched his shoulder playfully.
Susana smiled. "I wish Sherlock had this kind of relationship with his brother." She murmured to no one in particular.
You smiled at her. "I've seen them together. There's tension, but they still love each other. Trust me, John and I have our moments."
You turned and laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes heavy. The conversation had kept you awake, but now you felt tremendously tired.
"What time is it?" You asked.
"10:12" John replied, glancing at his watch.
"When do you think we'll be able to see him?"
"I'm not sure, hon. They've probably admitted him to emergency surgery to repair the damaged tissue, but even if not, they'd still have to stabilise him and reduce the bleeding before they can begin treating him. It'll probably be awhile."
You sighed. "Alright."

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