John/Sherlock
-3 Months Later-
John
Day 98 and the person led in bed beside me still isn't Sherlock.
Mary and I were now somehow in a relationship. I think I agreed to it by accident. I wasn't really paying attention to her question and so replied with a muffled "yes". I couldn't break up with her now, though. I didn't want to hurt her.
I didn't want to hurt her like Sherlock hurt me.
Speaking of Sherlock, he hadn't said a word to me since his last text. Then again, I hadn't exactly made an effort to talk to him either. Perhaps we both wanted to talk but neither of us wanted to start the conversation...
To say I was worried about him would be an understatement. The idea that anything could have happened to him occasionally kept me awake at night. I hated not knowing. I hated not being in touch with Sherlock. I hated missing him.
"Morning John." Mary yawned from beside me.
"Morning..." I returned half heartedly.
She looked up at me, tilting her head slightly, "What's wro-"
Without warning, my phone began to ring. I reached over and picked it up off of the bedside table. Turning the screen to face me, I saw a FaceTime request.
"Who's Sherlock?" Mary asked, reading the screen. Considering all lights were off and the curtains closed, it lit up the entire room. I suppose you could say that Sherlock was a light through the dark. My light.
"An old friend."
"Are you going to answer it?"
I simply stared at the screen imagining Sherlock on the other end. I imagined his sleepy expression. Perhaps he had only just woken up. That would mean that I was the first thing on his mind this morning. My stomach filled with the much missed butterflies - the ones I never got when I was around Mary.
Without allowing myself time to change my mind, I pressed "accept". A slightly fuzzy Sherlock appeared on my phone. I noticed Greg stood close behind him but I didn't question it. In fact, I was thankful for his presence considering the fact that he most likely persuaded Sherlock to call me in the first place. My eyes focused on the boy in the centre of my screen, my breath catching in my throat. He looked even more beautiful than I remembered. A single strand of his curly, brown hair fell over his eye. He pushed it back with his pale hand which allowed me to admire his whole face. His eyes weren't directed at the camera, but at the screen. At me. It then occurred to me that I probably looked terrible but, in that moment, I didn't care. I was more interested in Sherlock.
"Sherlock..." I breathed, still in slight disbelief that he was actually there.
I heard Mary say something but chose not to listen. I watched as Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together in confusion.
"Greg," Sherlock began, his voice croaky, "I suggest you leave John and I to talk."
"Sure. By the way, do you know where Mycroft is?" Greg asked. Were they together? Greg and Mycroft. Seemed plausible.
Everyone fell silent.
"Never mind... I'll find him." Sighed Greg, leaving. Mary saw this as her cue to leave as well. She kissed my cheek, making me flinch, before heading downstairs.
Now only Sherlock and I were left.
I avoided looking at the screen.
"You got a hair cut." I pointed out nervously.
