Grief

Bargaining

A year after the fall.  July

It had been a good few months since the Thanksgiving incident and yet John still felt empty all feeling was gone, whether negative or positive, was gone.  Without anger to fill the empty void it didn't take john long to go back to the unstoppable force of drugs and alcohol.

His house became a landfill of empty beer and pill bottles. The pain relievers did nothing to help the emotional pain of empty loneliness.  Instead, the modes of relaxation only caused his arms to shake and his mind to spin wild. John thought back to Sherlock.   How had he been able to handle it?  John had always known that behind his strong, soldier personality, he was easy to drink away.  Sherlock was different.  He could handle drugs. The dosage that caused John to shake like a leaf nearly caused a tremble from the detective. But it wasn't always this way. John was a doctor. He certainly knew how to tell the signs of an overdose. There were definitely times when even the brilliant detective could not hide his shaking hands and distant looks as his mind drifted off into a sea of nothingness. John kept the wall of silence between them, choosing to keep his words unsaid. Sherlock knew what he wanted to say and saying them aloud would make no difference. 

To everyone else, he claimed false facts.  He claimed that it was for intellectual reasons. It's funny, thought John, Sherlock uses it to get in his mind and I use to get out of my mind. Even though he would claim that he's fine, John could see through the lies like nobody else could. After all, they lived in the same flat. There was not much room to hide.

 Mycroft, being his brother, saw through the lies as well. He had always put John in charge of watching over his sociopathic brother. It was a difficult task that John apparently couldn't handle. He was surprised Mycroft didn't seem mad at him for letting his brother. The man of stone didn't seem to show any emotion to his brother's death at all. Even he would have to have some emotion Thought John, Even if he's too afraid to show it. No one is emotionless. 

 John often wondered what caused Sherlock and Mycroft to be so emotionless. There had to be something from their past...something from their childhood...Bling 

The notification startled him out of his drugged world and into harsh reality.  He checked his idle phone and was surprised to see that the text alert was from Molly. He rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the constant spinning of the room, and read the text aloud.

John found someone I would like for you to meet. Coming over in ten. Don't worry about cleaning up. see you then <3 Molly. 

John rubbed his tired eyes and let out a long groan. He was not ready for a visitor, let alone a complete stranger. Even though Molly said he didn't have to clean up, he did anyway. It wasn't much but it was the most he had done in days. He picked up all the bottles and other assorted rubbish and threw them in the bin before heading up to take a shower.  John turned on the shower, the warm water dribbling down his cold back. He stood there a while, just enjoying the feel of the warm water coursing through him.  It had been had been a while since he took a shower it felt amazing. 

He reached for the soap and sighed. It was almost empty. Squeezing the last drop into his palm and running it through his hair, he thought about his situation. 

I can't keep doing this. 

Ever since he quit his job after the fall, his rent and groceries had been paid by his insurance with help from Mrs. Hudson. Now, a year later, His insurance was starting to run out and Mrs. Hudson  (even though surprisingly well off)  didn't have a neverending budget to use on her depressed friend.  He needed a job and soon. 

wow, John thought as he dried off and shrugged on pants and a jumper, a year since the fall. And I'm still here. Why am I still here? Still in this empty house. Still in this endless loop of grief. When would it end? It has to end. I have to end it.  I have to move on with life. But how do I do that if all I want is to get my old life back?