A/N
I'm not sure whether to put 11 months later or 4 months later... Basically, it's the day John gets back but from Sherlock's point of view.
Sherlock
Sunday
I stood alone in the airport. Everyone around me seemed to belong here. It was as if they had waited here before. I probably stood out like a sore thumb.
I checked the time on my phone to give me something to do. I hoped John's plane would arrive soon. I couldn't wait for him step through those doors, no doubt wearing one of his famous jumpers. I couldn't wait for him to start laughing uncontrollably as he tried to tell me about something funny that happened on his trip. I couldn't wait for him to fall asleep in the car meaning I would have to drive carefully to avoid potholes. I couldn't wait to see him again.
I tapped my foot impatiently, checking my phone every so often out of habit. I'd started doing it ever since John left. I suppose I was originally checking to see if I'd received a text from him. I never did.
The families around me began edging towards the doors so I assumed the plane had arrived and followed, anxiety bubbling in my stomach. A few minutes later, the doors flew open and people began filling out.
I stepped back, hiding behind the newly reunited families. The anxiety I previously felt had now turned into plain fear. Did I really want to see John again? Was I ready?
Before I had chance to answer my own questions, John stepped through the doors. I felt a smile spread across my face as he looked around eagerly. I hoped he was looking for me. Assuming he was, I started towards him, making his job slightly easier.
Suddenly, out of no where, a girl ran over to John and threw her arms around him. Although I was quite far away, I could see that John hugged back. I froze in my spot, not quite knowing how to react. My heart felt as if it had momentarily forgotten how to function (and not in the good "I'm in love" way). My smile dropped and I started backing away. Out of all my thoughts, one took over all the seemingly logical thoughts I had at that moment: John had replaced me.
Without saying a word, I turned and ran. I carefully dodged all the people and bags. Pushing my way through a group of elders, I made my way to the exit. I continued to run out, not knowing which way to turn. I couldn't remember where my car was parked. I couldn't remember how to walk. I couldn't remember how to breathe...
I forgot everything but John.
Hot, salty tears flooded down my face. I tried to stop them but I physically couldn't. Someone asked me if I was okay. I opened my mouth to reply. I had to say something, anything, but all that came out were deep, painful sobs that tore through my body. Everything hurt. The boy I loved appeared to love someone else.
I found my car after an agonising, blurry-eyed search. I sat down fast, shaking and gasping for air. I don't think I'd ever cried so hard. For once I'd dropped the strong, machine-like facade. And all over what? A boy.
The tears continued to stream down my face uncontrollably as I began hitting the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding the car horn. I hated myself for being so stupid. I hated myself for trusting him. However, I didn't hate the boy himself. I could never hate him.
I could never hate John Watson.
~
John
As soon as I got home, I ran up to my room. I was annoyed at Sherlock for not turning up. The first thing I did when I got to the station was look for him. He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. He'd probably forgotten all about me...
I wasn't alone in the airport though. Mary was there. I only know that because she wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug as soon as I got through the doors. She was there waiting for her brother, who was on the same trip as me. At first, I thought it was Sherlock. I think I failed at masking my disappointment when I realised it wasn't.
I pulled out my phone from my suitcase and turned it on. There was really no point in me taking it considering it was turned off for the whole trip. I didn't realise I wouldn't get phone signal in America. It basically stayed in my suitcase the whole time.
As soon as it started up, my phone was bombarded with hundreds of messages from the only one sender I'd wanted to receive them from: Sherlock. I scrolled through them to get to the beginning.
About halfway through, I noticed the time gaps between the messages had gotten longer. The messages became shorter. It was almost as if Sherlock had given up. My heart ached as I thought about him. He wasn't at the airport...
Maybe that was why.
After reading the last few messages, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. This was then followed by a few more - all of them silent.
I decided that this would be a good time to open Sherlock's box. He had told me to open it when I was upset. Now was as good a time as ever.
I pulled it out from under my bed and placed it on my lap. One of my tears fell onto the top of the box. I wiped the water droplet away and opened it. Inside the box was a memory stick. I immediately plugged it into my laptop. Inside the memory stick was a single audio file. I pressed play.
A familiar tune floated through the speakers. The violin broke my heart in ways I never knew possible. When more tears threatened to escape, I let them. I'd simply stopped caring.
Sherlock had given me a memory stick with the song he had composed for me on it. He said it would cheer me up. I was currently crying. I don't feel his plan worked.
That's when it hit me. Sherlock was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I just let him slip through my fingers - just like sand.
I should have known I couldn't hold on to him forever.
A/N
*Hides* I'm sorry (This isn't the end but we're getting near folks. Folks? Do people say that?)
- A
