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"I'm lost without you, John." I said. It was very true that I was lost without my blogger. It had been a month since he fell-or rather was pushed- from the rooftop of St. Bart's Hospital. John had been pushed by Moriarty in another attempt to burn me, but the burn wounds were so harsh that he killed me that day.

I refused to take cases, even if they were a level 8 or 9. Slowly The Yard began to stop asking for my help, but Greg never did stop coming around. Him and Molly would come by the flat once or twice a week, apparently trying to check up on me. Mycroft had even come once, and though he left within the hour it was nice to know he actually cared about something.

Mrs. Hudson stayed around most of the day, saying that I shouldn't sulk around or quit eating or whatever it was that she spoke if for hours on end.

I never understood what loss felt like. Sure, I had lost my dog Redbeard, but I was a child. A pint of ice cream and a cuppa was all that took to rid me of the emotion I felt. But this, this was far more serious.

I'm a sociopath. I'm not supposed to feel anything. Especially not sentiment. Even though I know this, I still couldn't allow Mrs. Hudson to clear his possessions from the flat. It was as if I was waiting for him to walk through the door, yelling about how the milk was over priced and the tea was out of stock.

I took a step forward, feeling the smooth surface of the gravestone ahead if me. I stored the feeling away in the far corner if my mind palace. There it would be remembered, but not taking up space in the room where everything I knew of John was.

John's room had been turned into a house. The information stored there was far too much for a normal sized - or even jumbo sized room to hold. So, I created a second mind palace to hold information about him. It was where I spent most of my time now. If I couldn't have John in real life, I'd tread though his house for the rest of my life.

"John..." (A Johnlock AU)Where stories live. Discover now