60 Ways to Say Goodbye - A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Seven

Once again, guys, bare with me for these little filler chapters. Like I said before, I know exactly where I'm going but I need more time between now and then. So hang on. I promise, this is all going somewhere!

Still, comment telling me what you think is going to happen, what you think should happen, and/or what you think of the story.

Thanks for still being there!

~BB

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Chapter 7

I had visited Sherlock's grave every day, as usual, for a week. I'd cried four times and gotten a cold from my wet tears and the cold air. 

However, now I was at my sister Harry's house celebrating the fact that she was getting back together with Clara. We were having a good time, drinking wine (except for Harry, who Clara had banned from drinking alcohol. Instead she drank water). We were laughing and having a nice, pleasant chat. It was something I hadn't done with someone in a long while.

That's when the hospital called.

When I'd heard who was calling, I got hopeful for some reason, though I knew that hearing any good news would have been unlikely. Maybe they'd found out that Sherlock could be brought back, or perhaps he wasn't in fact dead at all.

This was not the case.

Apparently, Mrs. Hudson had fallen down the stairs this morning. She had broken her arm in two places and was requesting that I come see her.

"John, is something wrong?" Harry touched my arm warmly.

"My landlady is hurt," I said, feeling a twist in my stomach.

"Oh...," she said, sounding confused as to why I would care so much about my landlady. "I'm sorry. Are you close with her?"

"Yes and I'm sorry Harry...Clara," I nodded towards my sisters wife, "I'm very happy for you two, but I really must go and see her."

"It's fine, John. We understand. I'll see you soon," Harry said.

"...Yeah," I replied halfheartedly before running out the door.

I ran down the sidewalk to a main road where I could catch a cab. I held out my hand to flag one down. The first one passed, as did the second. Cabs had never been a problem with Sherlock because his height made him stand out. When I had finally managed to get a cab to stop, I climbed inside and told the driver "St. Bart's Hospital." The cab lurched into motion, but we were immediately stuck in traffic, leaving my stomach turning with anxiety. London was no good for emergencies.

I stared out the window and tapped my knee with my fingers, a nervous habit I'd developed. "Come on," I muttered to myself.

The traffic was not kind. I judged that from the distance I was from the hospital, it would be faster if I ran.

So that's what I did. Mrs. Hudson needed me and I wasn't about to give up on someone who needed me by their side. Not again. Not after what happened last time.

I paid the cabby with the money I had in my pocket and with an apology, jumped out of the cab.

I ran as fast as my feet would take me. The hospital was ten blocks from here. I would have to run a long while, but I was used to it from solving crimes with Sherlock. The thrill of the chase. The paces that kept my heart beating for minutes after we'd stopped. I missed those nights. I thought back to that last night with him. We had been running from the police, handcuffed together.

"Take my hand," Sherlock had yelled at me. I grabbed it, taking his orders.

"Now people will really talk," I had said. Maybe somewhere deep in my mind, I had secretly wanted people to talk, but I hadn't known it then. I hadn't even been sure what it was that I felt for Sherlock then. It wasn't until after he was gone that I realized what I felt for him was love.

How we had run that day. I smiled to myself before I remembered what had happened less than 24 hours later.

I came to the hospital. I tried not to look at the rooftop. The very one off which Sherlock had jumped. I looked up, because I couldn't help it. My breath caught in my throat. I could see him still standing there, his phone held up to his ear.

"Stay right where you are," he kept saying to me.

I should have come inside. I should have stopped him jumping. I'm sure I could have prevented it, but I had watched as he had fallen. It happened so quickly. He hit the ground. I tried running to him, but I was hit by a goddamn bicycle. It had taken me to long to get up, but it wouldn't have mattered if I'd gotten there sooner. Sherlock was dead as soon as he hit the ground. I had staggered over to his lifeless body and pushed myself through the crowd, mumbling barely audible words that I had no recollection of now. After sinking to the ground and throwing myself over his body, I had taken his non-existent pulse and he had been hauled away. I was left dizzy and empty feeling gone. I had felt like nothing would ever get better, a feeling which reigned mostly true to this day. I was alone in the world. My one true friend was gone.

I looked away quickly and ran into the hospital with my head held down. I couldn't let the hallucinations come back.

I went up to front desk. There was a bored-looking woman sitting at a computer. I cleared my throat.

"A woman with the last name Hudson. What room is she in?" I demanded. She checked her computer.

"32A," the woman said, "that's the third floor."

"Thank you," I hit my hands on the top of the counter as if pushing off. The woman jumped. Good, she needed to wake up a bit. I ran in the direction of the elevator.

I punched the button bearing the number three.

I was in the elevator with one other person. They stared at me as if building up courage to say something.

I turned towards them and nodded hello.

"You're...John Watson," they said.

"Yes. Yes I am," I said, flatly.

"I'm sorry," they told me, turning away.

I said nothing to them until the doors opened at the third floor. What do you say to that? No matter how many people were sorry, Sherlock wasn't coming back. I simply said, " Thank you."

I rushed down the corridors glancing at the plates outside each door, my heart racing. I knew Mrs. Hudson was in no grave danger, but she was almost as alone in the world as I was these days. She needed company to keep her sane. Lost in that thought, I almost ran by the room I was looking for.

32A.

I knocked on the door. I heard Mrs. Hudson's frail voice said," Come in."

I turned the door handle and entered the room. Mrs. Hudson was lying on the hospital bed in the middle of the room. She looked more weak than usual with her arm hanging limply at her side, but I knew how strong she really was.

"John, I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," she apologized. She sounded tired and exasperated.

"No, no, it's fine, really. I'm glad you called me," I said. "What happened?"

"I was coming down the stairs from your flat. I hadn't realized you had left. I had just gone to visit for a while, but you weren't there...anyway, on the way down the stairs, the heel on my shoe broke and I fell. I fell on my arm. It didn't really hurt too badly until a little while later, so I got a cab to take me to the hospital," she explained.

"You should have called me earlier, I would have come right away. I'm sorry, I should have told you I was going out," I said.

"You can't possibly blame yourself for this. Your life isn't my business, John," she assured me. "It's not like I'm your mother." 

"I know but I worry about you. We're the same, you and I. All we've got now is each other," I said sadly.

"I think that's quite enough to have on my part," Mrs. Hudson smiled sweetly.

We talked for a little while longer, but it was getting late.

"Will you be okay?" I asked her.

She laughed weakly, "I'll be perfectly fine, John."

"Are you sure?" asked, "Do you need anything?"

"No," she shook her head. "Go talk to Sherlock and tell him I said hello."

"Okay," I agreed, "I'll see you soon."

I left the room went back to elevator. My mind was cleared now. I could breathe. I bumped into Molly on the elevator.

"Oh, hello," I said, surprised to see her. I knew she worked here, but I hadn't expected to run into her.

"John, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"Mrs. Hudson fell down the stairs," I told her.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," I said to Molly, smiling in a friendly fashion.

"Good. Are you going home now, John?" She asked, not really making eye contact with me.

"Actually, I was going to visit Sherlock," I explained.

"Oh..." She said. I felt like she had already known the answer to her question.

I nodded.

"...John?" Molly said, tapping her foot nervously.

"Yes?" I asked. I wondered why she was so nervous to talk to me. I realize that my response to our kiss was awkward, but I never intended to hurt her feelings.

"Would you mind...if I came with you? To see Sherlock," Molly asked, finally looking into my eyes.

I thought about it for a moment. Maybe it would be better to have company on my visit. Maybe it would make me less vulnerable. But then again... "Molly...I'm sorry, but I just like to be alone with him."

"Right. That's fine," she said, as if it wasn't a problem, but I could tell when she was disappointed. She never let anyone see how she was feeling, but I could see it now. " I'll go and visit him another day," she continued.

"I'm sorry. I really am," I said again. The elevator doors slid open at the ground level. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.

I walked to the cemetery, my hands in my pockets the entire way there. It was freezing out. I hugged my jacket closer to me and quickened my pace. I was surprised to see Annalise still there when I arrived, but I was happy that I could purchase my flower for Sherlock. It was later than usual and Annalise didn't seem in the mood to talk, so I left her alone and went strait to the grave.

I sat down and placed the flower on the ground in front of me.

I looked up at the sky. The stars were bright and clear. The moon lit up the sky like a torch.

"It's a beautiful night," I said, lying back to stare at the stars, "so clear...You probably wouldn't have cared much, but you did surprise me sometimes. Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson is in the hospital. She broke her arm falling down the stairs. She had been coming to see me and I wasn't even there. I feel bad. She's not a young lady, it will take her longer to heal. I feel like it's my fault. I feel like what you did was my fault too. Sometimes I pushed you too hard. Sometimes I yelled. You made me angry sometimes, but I think you understood that. But if I had just stayed with you...maybe."

My breathing was getting shaky, and I took that time to close my eyes, distracting myself from my feelings. I couldn't cry anymore. I had to be stronger than that. I finally realized how tired I was, but I wasn't ready to leave yet.

"I almost let Molly come with me tonight, but I like spending time alone with you. It feels like you're actually there, like I can sense it. I know you're looking down at me and you're listening to what I have to say. If Molly was here, I would be restricted. I couldn't say half if the things I do," I told him. "Even being here alone, I don't say half of the thing I want to. I wish I could, Sherlock. It's just not that easy."

I yawned. I was falling asleep.

"Most graveyards would be creepy at night," I started, "but the fact that you're here makes it comforting...I mean, sure, you're a rotting corpse six feet underground, but listen, nobody's perfect. It's when you learn to accept them for what they are that they become perfect."

I chuckled morbidly and looked at the trees around the grave. The leaves were rustling in the wind.

I stayed staring up at the sky until my eyelids refused to stay open any longer. Somehow, without my knowledge, I fell asleep there.

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As I said, these are just filler chapters before I get to the climax of the story. But I must say, I was rather pleased where my brain took me with this.