What A Funny Thing [Sherlock X Suicidal!Reader]

Sweetness In His Life

So It did leave of on a dramatic note... I know I might have upset you guys, but look at Moffat for example, how many times has he ripped out our hearts? Too many. Exactly.

A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson got home from her errands. She spotted a note on her desk and was obviously curious. She saw it was in your handwriting. To My Only Friends...She thought, Hmm.. Well it was on my desk. She opened the note slowly. As she began to read her jaw dropped and she pulled up her hand to cover her mouth. As she read the last part she ran up the stairs. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She pounded as hard as she could. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately, tears streaming down her face, maybe there was hope?

She rammed her whole weight into the frame, and even though she looked rather frail, she was stronger than her appearance led people to believe. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately again, rushing about the flat. She stopped running, panting heavily, in the center of the living room. She thought she heard music coming from the only room she hadn't checked. She crept towards Sherlock's old room and placed a shaking hand on the knob. It was unlocked.

"[Y/N]?!" she whispered through the door. She could hear the violin and 'you' singing. She felt relief. She flung the door open to see your ghostly pale, blank face with your body laid back, your dead eyes staring at the bookshelf, and an empty pill bottle in your hand as the music played with your voice, "Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season..." She let out as screech as a wave of grief washed over her. She had lost two close friends today. She was like a mother to Sherlock and you.

She ran back down the stairs as sobs and shudders with a river of tears overwhelmed the poor landlady. She grabbed the phone to dial the Watson who had no clue of what had just happened. It rang on and on until, You have reached John Watson, please leave a message at the tone. Beep. She slammed the phone down and sat down. She grabbed the envelope, which she had not ripped, and sealed it gently again with her hands shaking wildly. She addressed it to Lestrade, you two had gotten close.

He read it and had more of a reaction to your death than Sherlock's. He actually turned out to know you better. You were a little sister to all of them. Well, all but one. But he was gone, and so were you.

Two Years Later

John stood outside the glittering black door emblazoned with gold. 221B  it read. He hadn't been here since... You know. He reluctantly gripped the handle and crossed the threshold. He shut the door as memories came back to him in a rush. He heard Sherlock's sweet violin music as he recounted their first true meeting after chasing down a cab with a killer cabbie.

Mrs. Hudson came in, cutting off John's thoughts. She stopped abruptly at the sight of him. He lifted up his hand to say hello, then began up the stairs into the flat he previously inhabited. When he was upstairs he walked into the living room, which was thick with dust from lack of use. Just lack of living things for that matter...... Unless one of Sherlock's experiments got seriously out of hand.

He sat down as Mrs. Hudson started to make coffee. She slammed down the coffee and mug with the cookie tray falling shortly after. She smacked down the sugar, then, quickly realizing her mistake, said, "Oh no, you don't take it do you?"

"Um, no." said John a little confused.

"You forget a little thing like that." said Mrs. Hudson, spacing out slightly, "You forget lots of little things it seems.." she said as though trying to prove a point.

"Uh-huh.." a rather uncomfortable silence fell. Mrs. Hudson soon broke it, however. She reached up and moved her finger in a line above her upper lip. "Not sure about that though. Ages you." Sorry to interrupt, but none of us really liked it, did we? "Just trying it out." John replied awkwardly.