Goodbye, John » {Johnlock} ON HIATUS

2. Warmth

John woke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and looked around before his senses finally kicked in. There was banging on the door. He made a face at the door, wondering who the hell would come to his flat. Not only that, but why?

He sat there for a while, thinking about whether or not he was willing to open it. When the person on the other side began to bang on the door once more, he made his decision.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he shouted. The banging stopped. He hopped off the bed walked over to the front door, his feet pounding against the floor. He opened the door and squinted at the unwelcome brightness he received. Once his eyes focused, he saw who was standing there.

"Four months, John," they said. "I gave you four months but I'm not letting you stay cooped up in here for any longer."

"Mary, please," John shook his head in annoyance.

"No, John," she replied. "I'm not leaving." She pushed John away from the doorway and stepped in without permission. He looked at her in awe before slamming the door closed.

"Mary, you can't just walk into my flat," he said.

"Yes, I can. And I did. Now, go get dressed, we're going out." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on one leg, waiting impatiently for John to start getting prepared for whatever it was she had planned for the day ahead of them.

"I'm not leaving," John stated sternly, giving her a warning look. "Now, if you could kindly get out of my house!"

"John, you can't stay in here forever!"

"Yes I can!" he yelled. "I have nothing to live for, so leave me be!"

Mary took a step towards John, making him take a step back. She stopped. "Listen to me, John," she said softly. John raised his eyebrows at her sudden change of tone. "I'm here for you, and I will be for as long as you want me to be. You can hate me if you want but I'm not cancelling our plans." She looked at him straight in the eyes. Her face was kind, but firm. John let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine," he stomped back to his room and locked the door. He head into his bathroom after gaining back his composure and looked in the mirror. When he did, he observed himself.

John was no sight for sore eyes, he could admit. His hair was outgrown, having not been cut for nearly six months. The front reached his eyes and the sides were long enough to be tucked behind his ears. His facial hair had grown as well, bits of blond and grey stubble surrounding his jaw. There seemed to be a bit more hair covering his top lip, creating a shadow of a mustache.

He quickly ran his fingers through his hair to cover his forehead and swept it to the side, covering the unwanted wrinkles and lines on his face. John then grabbed his shaving cream and slapped it along his jaw, using a razor to shave everything off except the bits of hair above his mouth.

He rinsed off the remaining foam off his face and used a towel to dry it off. John took a good look in the mirror and studied the result. He looked older with the mustache, but it didn't look bad. He rolled his eyes at himself and stepped out of the bathroom to put some clothes on. Who did he have to impress?

John slipped into a simple jumper and a pair of jeans before opening the door, revealing a curious Mary touching the one thing he had brought with him from Baker Street.

"Get your hands off that!" he shouted, with his arm outstretched.

Mary jumped at the sudden intrusion and quickly pulled her hand away from the object. Once she recovered from the scare, she let out a small chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" John asked, tilting his head to the side in irritation. His arm dropped back to his side.

"Because it's just a silly hat," she replied.

"It is not just a silly hat." John marched over and pulled the deerstalker from the shelf. He looked at it for a split second before tossing it onto a nearby chair, out of Mary's reach. Sure, it may have been silly back then, but that wasn't the case anymore. Sherlock wasn't around for John to make fun of whenever he wore it. It wasn't funny, not anymore.

It was the only thing of Sherlock's he was allowed to keep with him. Mycroft had come in a few months after Sherlock's death to collect his things, but of course John was against the idea. The only thing that made him step away from blocking Sherlock's bedroom door was their mutual agreement-Mycroft would walk away with everything Sherlock owned, with the exception of the hat. John would have much rather preferred to keep something more personal, like maybe his trench coat or one of his dress shirts. The silky purple one was one of John's favorites. If he had been able to keep it, maybe he would have Sherlock's scent left, even for a little bit. But Mycroft insisted that not only was he Sherlock's brother, but also the British government. John never backed down from a threat, but he was just too tired.

His eyes stayed locked on the hat, reminiscing, until a hand gently touched his arm. He looked over at Mary, an apologetic look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, smiling. "I know it's not just a silly hat. Let me make it up to you?"

John gave a silent nod and looked to the ground. Mary let her hand slide down his arm as reassurance before walking towards the door, John following not too far behind.

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As they walked side by side, Mary glanced over at John. He was limping on a cane. He had told her about it, when they first met. He had even told her how Sherlock was somehow able to distract from it. No, Sherlock was able to completely erase it from John's mind. It struck a small bit of jealousy in Mary that Sherlock was capable of having such a remarkable effect on John. She knew he has having a hard time coping, but she wanted to be the one person he trusted.

She wanted to be the one person to make him feel better.

But it seemed it would be harder than she had thought. Sherlock had dug himself into the deepest depths of John's mind, probably without even knowing, and it wasn't going to be easy to take his place. She shook her head. Take his place? She thought. Just listen to yourself.

After a couple of minutes walking in silence, John finally sparked up a conversation to break the awkward atmosphere.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Oh, just a local café. I think you'll quite like it." She responded with a confident smile. John gave a small smile back.

"Here we are!" she exclaimed cheerfully. She took a sudden turn and opened the door, allowing John to head in first.

She smiled and walked in behind him, closing her eyes as the strong smell of coffee washed over her. The bell hung over the door chimed as they stepped in.

"Welcome," the cashier said cheerfully.

"Thank you," Mary said politely. They took a seat at a table set for two next to the window. People walked by the window, minding their own business, as John and Mary looked out at the busy streets.

"What do you want?" Mary asked, blinking her eyes and smiling.

"Oh, just a coffee would be fine. Black." John requested without looking away from the window. Mary smiled at him disappointingly, but went up to the cashier to get their drinks.

She stood by the counter after paying the amount that was due, waiting for their order. From a distance, she looked back at John, wondering what steps to take with him. There was a long road ahead, there was no doubt about it. Mary was only having trouble figuring out the best way to get to the end of it without both of them (if not one or the other) getting hurt.

Once the barista slid their drinks across the counter, she treaded back over to her seat with the drinks in hand. She carefully place John's coffee in front of him, before taking her seat across him and drinking a sip of her tea.

"Oh, thank you," John said, taking in some of his own drink. He closed his eyes as he felt the warm liquid slither down his throat, leaving the bitter taste on his tongue. He looked back out the window and hummed in satisfaction.

"Not so bad, then?" Mary asked, teasing.

John shook his head and smiled, looking her in the eyes. "No, not bad at all."