After The Fall || A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 28 - Just Like Old Times

John was sitting with Mary on the sofa watching evening television. She snuggled into his arms and he smiled warmly at her. There was a quiet scene in the programme and they heard a faint pitter-pattering from outside.

"Is it still raining?" She moaned,staring at the window the noise was coming from. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her waist.

"Yeah I think so." He replied. "It's really cold, isn't it?"

"Is the boiler on?" She questioned.

"Not sure, I'll check." John said, detangling his arms from around his wife and waking out. He went to the boiler cupboard and pressed his hand up against the metal, it was stone cold and it wasn't lit. John swore loudly and quickly turned it back on.

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Jemima dragged her large bags from the taxi and hauled them over onto the wet pavement. Her hair was instantly soaked in the downpour. She paid the gruff-looking taxi driver and watched him leave. She looked over her shoulder at John's house and sighed. She carried all her suitcases one by one to the plain-looking door. She finally rang the doorbell and immediately heard an angry shout from inside, making her finch back slightly. John opened the door forcefully, clearly fuming at being disturbed so late, but his face softened when he saw who was standing there. His eyes widened with shock as he took in the sight of Jemima's defeated, waterlogged form. Her hair hung in wet straggles around her head and she had sore, puffy eyes and bright red cheeks from crying.

"What happened?" He asked urgently.

"Sherlock." She replied bitterly. "See, it's just like old times, isn't it?"

"Is he...?" John said, lines etched into his face with worry.

"No, don't worry your pretty little head. Your beloved Sherlock is fine and well up in his little palace." She said patronisingly. "He just kicked his own wife out, that's all."

"What?" John replied as he let her into the house.

"It's a long story." Jemima said, her angry, bitter tone masking the obvious despair underneath. John could see her eyes looking watery as he helped her bring suitcases inside.

"You can stay in the guest room, it's not a problem." He told her kindly.

"Thank you." She said hoarsely, pulling him into a tight hug, a few tears spilling over down her cheeks.

"You can go and sit with Mary, she's in there." He gestured down the hallway to the sitting room where he'd left his wife curled up on the sofa. "I'm going to have a chat with Sherlock."

Jemima was really trying to compose herself as she took off her wet shoes and walked into the sitting room. At once Mary lept up and ran over to her.

"What happened to you?" She asked, wearing the same worried expression that John had moments earlier. Jemima said nothing, finally breaking down into sobs. She was immediately pulled into a warm hug and lead to the soft sofa. She sobbed into Mary's arms like a small child. She looked up, scared, when she heard John shouting loudly into the phone in another room, it only made her sob harder.

"You promised me that you wouldn't hurt her! You promised! She's my friend! How could you do that?" She heard him screaming.

"What happened to you?" Mary repeated her question after Jemima had managed to regain some composure.

Jemima then began to explain everything that had happened between herself and Sherlock. She recounted everything, the words spilling out of her like a fountian as she began to get angry. Then, when she told Mary how Sherlock had kicked her out without a second glance or even a goodbye, she choked on her sentences and refused to finish. She sat in silence for a while, staring blankly at the wall in front of her with her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself.

John returned to the sitting room with the phone in hand and a defeated expression on his face.

"He's refusing to see sense. He won't let you back Jemima. I tried. I'm so sorry." He said, looking down at his slippers.

"It's fine. Thank you. I think I'll go to bed now, but I know where I need to go. I'll be out of your way by lunchtime tomorrow." She said. Before either of them could say anything to her, she'd walked out and was beginning to walk upstairs, suitcases in tow.

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John lay awake in bed that night. He could hear Jemima's muffled wailing from the next room. She sounded like a wounded animal. She was obviously trying to be quiet but she just couldn't hold it back. He realised that a night like this had eventually led to Sherlock and Jemima's relationship beginning, and it would now end with one. He remembered how empty he'd felt that night at Jemima's, knowing for sure that Sherlock wasn't there for him anymore. He remembered being in her position and he didn't want to wish it on anybody, especially not her. He cared about her and he'd led her into a relationship that ended up just hurting her. He felt guilty, even though there was no way he could have ever known the outcome.

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Sherlock lay in his bed, unable to sleep, as was often the case. He wished that life could just be simple, that people could be simple. He didn't understand why the people he loved had to be so complicated. He already missed Jemima, but he believed it was for the best. If she had kept something that big from him, he could never trust her again. He was firm on that, but it didn't stop him hurting. Sherlock turned over in his bed and began to sob, in a way he never had since he was little. He wished that Mycroft was there to take care of him, as he always had been when he was younger. Mycroft was one of the only people that understood Sherlock in times like this. He couldn't trust his wife and he had angered his best friend, so he had nobody else to turn to but his brother. But Mycroft was away and there was no answer on his phone. Sherlock lay alone, feeling more desparate than he had ever done in his life.

This is the last part unfortunately, but I'm planning something else to keep an eye out! (Hint Hint - It may or may not be a sequel - Hint Hint) ;-) - Freya