John traced his fingers along the hem of Sherlock's armchair. The violin was propped up gracefully on the delicate but worn fabric. Everything of Sherlock's was neatly arranged or chaotic, just as he had left it. Dr. Watson had not dared to touch any of his friend's things.
The kitchen had a musty feel to it, no one had been in it for two years, ever since Sherlock's fall. John's steps raised dust in the empty flat and it seemed that the hollowed out scull on the mantle place was staring. For a second it had seemed to John that there was a hot ember in the fireplace but he quickly dismissed the thought of it.
Right as he stepped into Sherlock's bedroom for the first time in the longest years of his life, a familiar smell hit his nose. A smell that reminded him of his old roommate and best friend. John scrunched up the bridge of his nose and brought his eyebrows together.
Miss me? -SH
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Texting Sherlock
FanfictionA collection of texts/conversations between the famous detective Sherlock Holmes and his blogger, John Watson. Blog posts by John may also be included in this compilation. *Art is not mine*
