In the End

by Ann (theredwaller at msn.com)
3/16/02

He ran on, trying to keep up, but slowly lagging behind. This was unusual -- maybe not for you, but for Sherlock Holmes, this was not ordinary. He slowed down, not intentionally, behind Inspector Lestrade.Then he stopped altogether, panting for breath as if his lungs couldn't have enough. But then the pain. It coursed through his body like poison. He doubled over, and to his relief, darkness swelled into his consciousness.

It starts with one thing
I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
keep that in mind
I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time

"I don't know what happened. One minute he's right there, about to take down Anderson, and then he's behind me, out cold." The voice echoed in his head. He recognized it, from far off; then another voice joined the conversation.

"It's the cryogenics. He was preserved for so long, and the technology..." The voice halted, as if the remainder of the statement was difficult to say. "...is so limited, so undeveloped, still in the experimental stages. He's aging fast; the cells, they are deteriorating at an unusual pace, and they aren't going through meosis as much as they should."

"What does that mean?!" the first voice cut in, alarmed.

"It means that there are no new, healthy cells to take their place. It is like his life is going past at full speed, and he won't even know it. It won't affect him physically; no one will ever be able to tell that he is growing old on the inside."

"Which means?!" her voice interrupted. Fear seeped into Lestrade's voice as she impatiently listened to the doctor's rambling.

"Ms. Lestrade, he will die. He will die soon.There is no stopping it."

All I know
Time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day
The clock ticks life away

"Holmes! What are you doing? You were supposed to be at Mrs. Pettigrew's house half an hour ago! We waited and waited but you never showed!" Lestrade pestered him, her arms waving in the air as her tone rose.

Slowly Holmes replied. His eyes had this faraway look in them as he searched his memory. Weeks had passed since he lay on the hospital bed hearing the report, trying not to show any emotion as he pretended to be unconscious, pretending to not hear Lestrade sobbing pitifully. "Mrs. Pettigrew? Oh! Yes, was that today?" he asked as recognition dawned on his face.

Lestrade looked at him. It was a sad, forlorn look, heartrending. "Holmes, what's wrong? You'd never forget a case."

He started to pace the room, but not for long before he collapsed into his armchair. "Lestrade...well...Lestrade,I feel...I feel like butter...butter that has been stretched over too much bread, almost like I'm wasting away...." His voice trailed off as he watched Lestrade's face soften and tears, almost undetectable, fill her eyes. She wiped her eyes and said something that Holmes didn't grasp; then she fled out of 221b.

It's so unreal
Didn't look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Trying to hold on, but didn't even know
Wasted it all just to watch you go
I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when

Lestrade stood there. A brief wind picked up over the grounds, making her dress flutter slightly. Her mind blocked out every sound, every movement. She didn't hear Deidre sobbing on Wiggins' shoulder; she didn't hear Wiggins' sharp intake of breath every few seconds, trying to hold back the sobs, leaving the tears to run down his face. She never noticed the forlorn look in Tennyson's eyes, as if he had just lost all hope.

Holmes had died, just as the doctor said. It took three months, three short months. Could she have known as she stood in the doctor's office that in three short months Greyson would be giving a teary-eyed address to New Scotland Yard? Not once did Lestrade cry -- at first, before it had all set in, yes, she cried a lot. But after the shock went away, she realized it was difficult to cry at your own funeral.

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

One week had passed -- one day since the last card of sympathy arrived. She wasn't even married to the man, but still she wondered how she would survive without the constant nitpicking, without his constructive criticism, without him. On the outside she tried to act as it hadn't phased her at all; inside she had drifted away. Inside she was gone, lost forever in a deep pool of regret. She had died the day he did. She was a shell; every day she went to work, ignoring the silence that came over the room as she came in, not wanting to see the sad smiles, pushing away the invitations to lunch or to a yoga class. She exiled herself from society.

One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
keep that in mind
I designed this rhyme, to remind myself how
I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mocking me
Acting like I was part of your property
Remembering all the times you fought with me
I'm surprised it got so (far)

She slowly walked home from work in the steady downpour, passing buildings and alleyways, passing doorways where people stood to get out of the rain. She craned her neck back, allowing the rain to splatter on her face, thinking to herself, He liked this kind of weather.

"Beep-beep whirl." The noise brought her back to the present. She looked over to a nearby doorway where a young boy in a hoverchair was, with an older girl standing next to him, and smiled weakly.

"Hey, Ms. Beth. how's it going?" Deidre asked softly, with more sincerity than usual.

Lestrade shrugged. She could tell by their faces that they had fared as well as her. Tennyson's eyes still held that hopeless look. Deidre had almost seemed startled at her appearance, but then, who could blame her?

The sign turned, and Deidre and Tennyson dashed across the slick roadway. A slight whirling sound came from Tennyson as his hoverchair gave a moan and dropped in the middle of the road. Deidre shrieked as a speeding hovercar rounded the corner. Lestrade acted on instinct; she ran into the road and gave Tennyson's hoverchair a slight push, making it skid across the roadway. Lestrade stood there as the craft came on, almost welcoming it as it collided with her body.

Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me (in the end)
You kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I

Sirens screamed as paramedics swarmed, but Lestrade wasn't there; her mind was elsewhere. She gave a final smile, one of the rare ones. So, she thought, this is the end, but not for long....

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know


Ok, that's my first songfic; it's Linkin Park's "In the end". I was in a depressive mood, and I know it's poorly written; but I had to write it.

THE END


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