Walking into the flat I once shared with Sherlock, I was almost instantly greeted by Mrs. Hudson at the top of the stairs.
She spoke softly, a saddened smile plastered on her face.
"Hello, dear."
I looked at her, my chest tightened with concern.
"Is everything alright?"
She nodded and patted my arm.
"Oh, It's Sherlock. He's been staring out the window for nearly an hour. I can't get him to talk."
I frowned, and walked past her, making my way into the severely cluttered living room.
"Sherlock?" I looked at him; he was standing behind the large armchair, his back towards me.
His voice was low. "Yes?"
"Are you... okay?"
He slowly turned around to face me.
I felt my heart sink. The experience and memories of the bloodbath in the war were nothing compared to what I had just witnessed.
He had been crying.
I rushed over to him.
"bb why u sad"
"bcuz im gay 4 u jawn"
"o"
"yeah"
"i can make it better with the secks sherlock"
"ok"
I looked at Mrs. Hudson, who was now smiling.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Her voice was nearly a whisper.
"I bloody knew it."
YOU ARE READING
How it should be- Johnlock smut
Fanfiction4:00 A.M. 9/9/16 This is my personal view on the deep importance of the strong, loving bond between two men.