Quickly shoving all his belongings into the bag he'd brought with him on his short break away from Baker Street, he ran out of the hotel shouting his regards to the staff.
It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to hail a cab, he stepped in the car after chucking his bags into the boot. The driver gave him a strange look as he shouted the address at him.
He realised that he maybe shouldn't be making a big deal out of this, Sherlock could be really badly hurt and could even die. He shouldn't hope for the best, but he couldn't help it. It had just been so long since he had seen his Sherlock, been so long since he had seen his beautiful sherlockian eyes that he had fallen in love with.
As he stepped out the taxi he ran as fast as he could and avoided the looks he got in the reception of the hospital. Many nurses approached him whilst he was running as if they were going to ask him where he was going. He really didn't need these distractions, all he wanted, was to see Sherlock again. And he could.... as soon as he found the ward lestrange has told him. The hospital seemed to be miles long and it seemed as if he had been running for hours and yet for John none of this mattered. Because he knew he was going to Sherlock Holmes. The famous detective, his lover.
Once he had finally located the ward in which Sherlock was hospitalised, he burst through the doors, scanning the room full of faces for the one face that he had missed for so long.
One issue- he couldn't find it. He stood still, his heart pounding and blood rushing. Pulling his phone out of his back pocket he dialled Greg's number. Luckily he picked up on the first try.
'John?'
'Yes, Greg where are you? I've gone to the room you told me and your not here! Neither is Sherlock! What's going on?' John was practically shouting down the phone as he was still frantically scanning the room.
'We've got a slight... issue.'
'What are you talking about?? He's not dead is he? Tell me he's not dead Greg. Please.'
'Calm down! He's not dead, it's nothing like that. We have him in the back room of the ward and are just running some tests on him. Checking he doesn't have any eternal brain damage or anything like that.'
'Why? You said he was fine!! What's wrong with him?'
'It's nothing, just he seems to have lost some of his memory.'
Hanging up the phone and shoving it in his pocket, the blood that was once pumping through his veins at a mad speed had now gone straight to his head. Which memories? All of them? Some of them? Would Sherlock even remember him?
John shook his head trying to get rid of the horrible thoughts coming to his mind. Of course Sherlock wouldn't have forgotten him. It would be something small, like his favourite colour or his who his landlady was (although Mrs Hudson was pretty unforgettable). The was no way in any universe or alternative reality that Sherlock could possibly forget him.
Flicking through all his past memories, beautiful images of comfort and joy and happiness flooded johns mind. Even the simplest things, like walking at the park, feeding the ducks made John smile. Sherlock could not possibly forget the Times he was supposedly most happy. Couldn't he?
YOU ARE READING
johnlock: forgive and forget
Fanfiction//COMPLETED//JOHNLOCK// Sherlock is gay. John isnt gay. Or his he? What would you do for your best friend who's supposedly dead? Would you forgive him? If you forget something can you revive that memory just as easy as forgetting it? A/U no Mary, S...
