Friends Protect People (Johnlock)

(John’s POV)

            “Goodbye John.” I heard the consulting detective’s voice ring through my ears before the line went dead. I could see his narrow figure on top of the hospital. A moment’s hesitation, then he jumped. My roommate, my best friend…. The man I loved.

            “SHERLOCK!” I screamed, upright in my bed covered in a cold sweat. My knuckles were bone white for gripping the sheet too hard, and I couldn’t stop my ragged breathing. Tears fell silently down my face, freely as I had no energy to stop them anymore. It was the same nightmare every night for the past 2 years, mimicking the one that had happened in real life. Why? Why did he jump? Why did he have me tell everyone that he was a fraud, even though I knew it wasn’t true? I have seen the man, that brilliant man, at work at a crime scene, and I knew it wasn’t fake.

            “John, are you alright?” Mrs. Hudson opened the door and peered in, and I made no effort to hide my tears. We went through the same thing every night. I just lifted my head to look at her, and she knew right away what my answer was. “I’ll go make you some tea.” She shuffled away, and I groaned, leaning back on the pillow. Even after all these years I could still faintly detect his scent embedded in it. I had taken to sleeping in his bed after the fall; it was just a way to pretend that he was still here, that he would just walk through the door in his arrogant way…. Another wave of sobs racked my body. He wasn’t coming back, I saw him after the fall, his body contorted, his blood smeared all over his mesmerizing face. I visited his grave daily, I just couldn’t move on, no matter how much Molly or Lestrade told me to. How could I go on without my best friend?

            “John?” I heard Mrs. Hudson call from the kitchen, and I stumbled out of the bedroom, absent-mindedly throwing on his robe. It was just habit now, even though it was much too long on me and dragged along the floor. I sat down in my chair as she handed me my drink. Mrs. Hudson was the only one who knew how I felt, the only one who knew that I just simply couldn’t ‘move on.’ We were like her sons, and it was nice to have someone who still cared about me.

            “Thanks.” I muttered, pulling out my laptop and turned on the blog. I haven’t updated it in years, yet the number of readers always seemed to be growing.

            “Same nightmare?” she asked, and I nodded again, not trusting my voice. I didn’t realize I was crying again until I saw the teardrops splash onto my keyboard.

            “Why did he have to bloody leave?!” I shouted, throwing the mug against the wall in anger.

            “I know you miss him sweetheart. I miss him too, but you don’t need to take it out on my poor wall. It’s already gotten enough abuse from…” She trailed off, and I followed her eyes to see that I threw the cup in the exact same spot where….he …. Shot the wall several times. That obnoxious yellow smiley face was still there, mocking me.

            “I think I need something stronger than tea.” I muttered, heading to the fridge. There were no body parts, haven’t been for years, but the fridge always seemed to be empty without them. The whole flat was empty without him here.

            “Oh no you don’t, I threw away your last bottle of that god awful stuff.” She scolded, and I sighed, closing my eyes.

            “I need it… it helps me forget… S-s-Sherlock” I choke out, my voice catching on my tears. I’m a doctor, I knew full well what it was doing to me, but those nights were I drank myself to oblivion were the closest to peace I could ever get, it was one of the times where I wouldn’t dream about him.