Three Long Years Without John (a Johnlock fanfiction)

Not alone

Chapter 13

Moran yelped as Sherlock shot the gun out if his hands. He kicked Sherlock, making him drop his gun. Sherlock threw a punch, but Moran blocked it. They continued to throw punches and kicks but neither of them backed down. Sherlock punched Moran hard in the jaw which made him lose his balance and fall. He tripped Sherlock who fell and banged his head against a gravestone. His vision went blurry, he tried to sit up but the pain made he collapse back down. He saw Moran start running in the other direction,

"C...coward." Sherlock croaked, but he knew what he was doing. Moran wanted to make him watch John suffer while he couldn't do anything about it. He growled thinking about how close he was to take out Sebastian. He was so close! He tried to stand up, but stumbled. He put his hand on a tree to steady his balance. Slowly he made his way out of the graveyard with no sign of Moran anywhere. He put a hand to his head where he hit the stone. He could feel a gash. It wasn't that deep so he didn't worry about it that much, he just had to go back... Back where? To Molly? No. Moran knew he was there, he had to go somewhere else. He searched through his mind trying to think of a place he could go. He opened his eyes as he found one. He grumbled as he fished out his mobile and dialed a number,

"Hello brother dear. I need to ask you a favor."

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As soon as John woke up he started to panic. 'Sherlock? Where is Sherlock?' Was all he could think about. He hadn't seen him last night, where was he? John sat straight up, still not fully awake,

"Sherlock!" He yelled. Then he finally remembered. He hadn't seen him last night because of the pills he took, and Sherlock was only in his dreams. Sherlock was still dead. John started to weep. He kept crying until his shoulders shook from sobbing. He let out a moan of pain and sorrow. He glared at the bottle of pills,

"You w-were supposed to he-help m-me." He said in between sobs. He kicked the bottle off the nightstand and continued to cry. The nightmares stopped, but why was he still haunting him? He couldn't stop thinking that it was somehow his fault Sherlock jumped. He thought he could have done something to help him, instead of calling him a machine and storming out. He should've known something was wrong from the way Sherlock was acting when he told him Mrs. Hudson had been shot. He could've stopped him. John believed he could have done something. He let out another sob,

"It's my fault. It's all my fault" he kept crying until tears no longer fell down his face. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then he grabbed his cane and slowly got up. He frowned as he noticed that me was much weaker than the day before. He limped into the kitchen to get something to eat, maybe he just wasn't eating enough. He opened the fridge to get some food, half expecting to see a limb or a bag of hands. He made himself a sandwich and sat at the empty table, staring at the wall in front of him. Why couldn't he move on? Why was it so hard? He tried seeing other women but whenever he would mention Sherlock they would just give him a strange look and give an excuse to leave. No one besides him truly believed he was real. He left his half eaten sandwich and limped over to grab his laptop. He sat down in his chair and opened it up. His eyebrows lifted as he saw that he had received about 20 emails, all bout the same thing.

"John is this you?" "Did you do this?" "You need to check this out right now." "Click on this link." John clicked on the link and what popped up was a picture of graffiti on a wall. His jaw dropped as he read the words "I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES". He scrolled down to read the article underneath the picture,

"Act of rebellion or faith?

Around 6:00 AM in the city of L.A. a man found graffiti that said, "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." Research shows that Sherlock Holmes is an English detective accused of murder, kidnap, and faking all the crimes he solved. About two years and six months ago he committed suicide. It is believed he did this because he was so ashamed that his secret was reviled.

The question is, why is someone spraying graffiti about it in L.A.? Mr. Holmes did have a range of believers, but they all slowly went away just a month after his incident. Police are treating this message just the same way they treat any other graffiti messages. They aren't doing anything. People walk past walls and buildings with anarchy art painted over it all the time, not giving it any thought whatsoever. But this one message has been causing some talk all around. To the man/woman who created it: You wanted to make your message clear? Mission accomplished."

John read through the article over and over, hardly believing his eyes. Someone else thinks Sherlock is real? A smile slowly formed on his lips. And for once, in a long long time, he didn't feel alone.

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I finally finished this chapter! YEA! Sorry it took so long. Writers block ugh.

Oh my god look how many reads I got! Thank you so much, I love you all! Really means a lot. Please vote, comment and share. I'll try to finish 14 as soon as I can.

-JM