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“John!” Alaska shrieked. “John don’t you dare! John, please. No, John, don’t. Please, stop it!” Alaska’s pleas were lost in John’s ears. Pure, white-hot anger blinded him as he raged towards her. His eyes dilated with ruthless hatred locked hers as she pressed herself against the door she just entered through. “John! I’m begging you, just sit down. Please don’t, John, really stop it!” Tears pooled in Alaska’s green eyes as she quivered in front of him; crippled from her encounter with Tony and shaking with fear of John’s actions. He ignored her as best he could; gently, but forcefully shoving her out of the way and swinging open the door. It was no longer raining, but for all John cared it could have been the best day of the year, but he’d never know; the cloud floating over his head was clashing lightening in front of his eyes and echoing thunder in his ears.
The yellow convertible was parked behind John’s ’74 Station Wagon, but that didn’t stop him, he just hopped in her car instead. After recollecting herself at the door and following him down the steps muttering slurred pleas, Alaska threw herself at the car door, pleading for him to come back inside. He only sighed and looked at her with a pained expression.
“Give me the keys,” he held his hand out through the open window. “Please.” John’s eyes fell to his love’s quivering bottom lip. He sighed, closing his eyes, keeping his hand out for the keys. “Keys, please, Alaska.”
Reluctantly she pulled the keys from her pocket and shakily handed them over. She mumbled more pleas for him to not leave, but they were drowned out by the grumble of the engine. A pained expression passed betwixt them before he turned his head to watch as he backed out into the open road. The damp and muddy gravel of the driveway groaned under the weight of the car as it strolled painfully out. Her eyes followed the bumper as long as she could before hugging herself and turning towards the house again. Small, leather clad feet walked somberly up the stairs and into the house, closing the door behind them. Alaska’s first instinct was to raid the freezer for ice-cream, but she refrained from doing so since it wasn’t her place. With lack of initiative to do anything else she walked over to the living room and plopped, face down, unto the gloomy blue futon.
Several politely irritated knocks rapped at the door in the otherwise quiet hallway of the rather posh hotel. John strained to keep his cool; curling and unfurling his fist as he waited for the door to open. He refrained from knocking again when he wasn’t answered promptly, allowing the man time. A few seconds short of boiling point he knocked again, this time less politely. The word given to him was that Alaska was the only one to leave from this room, so Tony had to be inside. John put his ear to the door to hear if Tony was moving about inside. To his astonishment, his grim and foreboding astonishment, the sound coming from inside was sheer and utter silence. Then he heard it; a small, shaky intake of breath, a breath John knew all too well. The door was locked, John found out after frantically twisting the bronze coloured knob, and he had no way to get in. Kicking down the door occurred to him, but these doors looked relatively thick, sounding like hollow metal, there was no way he’d attempt it. Quickly he remembered that every room had a balcony, and that it would be possible to reach the railing of one to get to the other. All that time with Sherlock paid off –but he refused to think about Sherlock for old wounds would be allowed to surface and bleed the memories.
“Excuse me, I am a doctor, open the door please!” John tried to politely demand of the door next to Tony.
A rustled young woman came to the door, her eyes brightening at John. She smoothed her frazzled hair and uttered a honey-dipped hello, enforcing, not very subtly, that the items on her upper torso represented her feminine identity and relationship availability. John, uncomfortably, but respectively, looked her in the eyes and told her he needed to borrow her balcony. She agreed, deflating her previous stature as John awkwardly made his way past her to the opposite side of the room where the doors obviously opened to a balcony. Hasting not, John opened the door and stepped out, looking to Tony’s similar balcony and approximating the distance. Without much fore or after thought, John climbed unto the thin, metal railing and leaped, slipping fractionally before landing short of perfectly on his desired destination. When he went to dramatically open the doors to Tony’s hotel room, he found that those doors were locked too.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” John said, exasperated.
Since these were French doors, it didn’t require much thought to kick through the glass and open the door. When he was in John rushed for the bathroom- assuming that Tony would be in there due to the sound he heard when he was outside the door. In took him a few tries, but be finally found it, he found the door cracked open. Inside, lying on the floor, a body shaking rhythmically against the linoleum floor. Convulsions rocked Tony’s helpless body and all he could do was stare at John through fluttering eyelids. John’s eyes darted around the room, finding a bath towel and grabbing it immediately, rolling it up and placing it under Tony’s head for a cushion. Staying by Tony’s side, John took his mobile from his back pocket and dialed for an ambulance. After accomplishing that he stole a moment to rush into the adjacent room, picking up the phone and dialing the noted number of the main office that was posted to the phone back.
“We have an emergency in room 203, the ambulance has been called. Yes, this is Doctor John Watson. Yes, I know, thank you.” He quickly hung up the phone and joined Tony again at his side.
It had not slipped past John the empty bottle of Amitriptyline laying in the sink. “Antidepressants.” John breathed, knowing if medical action wasn’t taken presently, this man would almost surely die.