What’s the good of being King if you have no power? That’s the question that goes through Jim’s mind every day as he looks around him at the depressing area of the psych ward, a place that he despised, but just couldn’t seem to get out of. It was inevitable, really, with the way that he seemed to work, always in his own little world. He could never handle himself out in the real world as they called it with him. They call it that because he’s never there. He doesn’t think it’s real though, no, this was all just a place of his nightmares.
Diagnosed with psychopathy, post-traumatic stress disorder, and psychosis caused by schizophrenia, Jim was basically due for a life in this hell, but he couldn’t find the will to try and leave. Where would he go? Here, they fed him, they gave him clothes, they didn’t make him work. It was perfect, especially when he could always just stay in his mind and pretend none of this existed. Which is exactly what he was doing.
He forgets the world around him for a moment, eyes glazing over as he stares at nothing and no one in particular, smiling lazily to himself as he sees himself meeting the man of his affections, Sherlock Holmes, portraying as a closeted-gay male who was dating one of Sherlock Holme’s friends. Oh, Sherlock was just so smart. Jim totally misses the fact that he was staring directly at someone, too caught up in himself.