I am so so so so so so so so so so sorry. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. You'll see why.
Sherlock's POV
I awoke in my bed from an awful dream. John had been kidnapped and I was trying to find him but it was probably too late. It was just a dream though, I was sure of it. I rolled over and saw John laying there, next to me, sleeping peacefully. Good. It was all just a nightmare, he was fine.I went to the kitchen to make us breakfast. It was strange, as soon as I decided to make breakfast, it was there already. I shook it off and went to wake John.
We sat at the experiment-free dining table and talked while we ate. There was something off with John but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Nothing he did seemed to make sense exactly. I ignored it, I was probably just sleep deprived - it wouldn't be the first time.
The rest of the day passed unusually quickly. We spent the majority of the day cuddling and watching crap telly. John kept on doing things that didn't make sense, like he would go make a cup of tea but bring back a book. I just brushed it off time and time again.
I didn't mind not everything making sense. I was just happy that John was with me, and not kidnapped like he was in my dream last night.
We went to bed and I fell asleep with John's arms wrapped around me. Strange, I thought to myself. I was the one who usually held John while we slept. But I was too happy that John was really here that I didn't care.
In the morning, John was gone. I figured that he had just gone to the bathroom or the kitchen. Still half asleep, I stumbled into the kitchen. It was empty. The dining table was littered with random experiments. But wasn't it empty yesterday?
My phone buzzed, notifying me that I had a message. I grabbed it from the table, hoping it was from John. It wasn't. It was from Lestrade. As I unlocked it, I noticed the date. But hadn't it been the 11th the day before?
I went to the text that Lestrade sent me.
We found John. We got him to St Barts as fast as possible. He's there right now, in emergency surgery, but theres a very slim chance of him surviving. I'm so sorry, Sherlock.
Tears sprung to my eyes. It wasn't a dream. Well, my day with John had, but he really had been kidnapped and I wasted time sleeping instead of saving him. How could I do that to him?
I replied to Lestrade, asking him for the number of John's room and he told me that he didn't have one. Apparently, John had been taken immediately to the Operation Room, so he didn't have a room. He said that as soon as he knew, he would tell me.
No, if he told me then, then I might get there too late. I told him that I was going to the hospital now.
As quickly as I could, I got dressed and rushed straight to the hospital.
"Johh Watson? Where's his room?" I yelled at the receptionist. She looked a little bewildered but I didn't care.
She pressed a few keys on her computer before she turned back to me. "He is still in the OR. We will notify you as soon as he comes out."
I didn't reply, I just stalked off to the waiting room.
It was a few hours of just sitting there on the uncomfortable hospital chairs in the waiting room. Eventually, a doctor came into the room and asked if anyone was here for Dr Watson.
I told him I was, and I followed him through the long corridors of the hospital. We stopped in front of a door.
"So you are Mr Holmes, I assume?"
I nodded silently.
"I am sorry, but your fiance died on the operating table."
Those last 6 words were the words that tore my entire world down.
Two weeks later, there was a funeral instead of a wedding.
On the day I was supposed to marry the most wonderful man in the world, I was at his funeral instead. Ever since I proposed, I had been looking forward to that day, but now it was the worst day of my life.
Once the funeral was over, I went and stood by his grave, just as he had done with my 'grave' when I had 'died'. I knelt down and put a bouquet (is that how you spell it?) of flowers next to his grave.
"John Watson, I was looing forward to this day for so many months, but now in just a few weeks, everything has been turned around. When you thought I was dead, you made a speech in this very graveyard. You said there were times when you thought I wasn't human, but I am, and now my heart is shattered into a million pieces. You said I saved you, but you don't realise how many times you saved me, even in the simplest of ways. I love you. The game, my dear Watson, is over."
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I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I am so fucking sorry. Please don't kill me, I swear I will write a really fluffy one next time.
YOU ARE READING
Johnlock Fluff (mostly) Oneshots
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