Suicide doesn't kill just one person {A Johnlock fanfic}

Chapter 2

John slowly walked in, wiping up a strip of dust from the couch, rembering back to the night before it happened when Sherlock had been looking for the cameras and he had said that dust was eloquent. He didn't even notice the tears forming as he walked through the flat. He ran his fingers over Sherlock's violin case and his favorite book. He only noticed he was crying when he was flipping through Sherlock's papers and the tears started falling. He stopped looking at the papers as soon as they started to fall in hopes of not smearing the ink. John wanted to preserve as much of Sherlock as he could.

He continued walking through the flat, taking in every little bit of Sherlock he could. Even if he wasn't here, his echo was. Every little mark in the table John could remeber the story behind it, every random looking book tossed around, John could remember why Sherlock bought it. Every experiment, paper, picture, and trinket John could name why it was there.

After about ten minutes of walking aimlessly he realized he was in front of Sherlock's door. He could feel the tears cascading down his face and he set his hand on the doorknob. Carefully, as if not to disturb anybody, he opened the door. He stepped inside silently and looked around, he was in Sherlock's personal space now. Everything Sherlock was was in this room. There was a leather notebook on the desk and a picture of the periodic table on the wall, the bed was carefully made from Sherlock's rare mornings after sleeping in it, and there were books strewn across the floor on the other side of the bed.

John ran his hand over the cover of the notebook, opening it and running his fingers over Sherlock's spidery handwriting. He didn't want to read it, as he felt that would be invading Sherlock's thoughts, so he glanced at some of the other pages before closing it and starting to walk over to the bed. About halfway there his knees buckled and he fell to his knees, tears cascading down his face. The room was too much. Sherlock's smell finally registed in John's brain and he let out a choked sob. That was it, John was finally officially broken.