Sherlock bbc oneshots

How this might end (S4)

(Spoilers for the six thatchers.)

It was a Grey day, in a Gray live, in a Grey world.

John Watson walked along the pavement through a rainy London. The rain didn't bother him, neither the cold or the wind. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything looked Grey and dead and all the same.

The People in their Long coats hurried along him, their collars raised against the wind, the heads ducked, busy to get out of the cold, jumping out of the way when a car splashed a wave on the pavemant.

John didn't even know where he was going. He just wanted to go out, to escape his overprotectiv sister and the pitiful looks of his neighbours.

Somehow, his feets carried him to baker street. They stopped automatically infront of number 221B.

For a Moment he hesiated, than he pulled out a key and entered 221B Baker street after a Long time. It still looked the same. Everything was at his place, everything was still drowned in a darkish light and he could hear a Violine from upstairs, like no time passed.

His feet stepped on the staircaise and he felt home. Every step brought back a Memory, good ones and those ones he learned to accept. Step by step he climbed up untill he stood infront of the door to their living room, Sherlocks living room. Without knocking he stepped in.

There he stood, in all his grace. With his messy black curls, in his Long Dressing gown, facing the window. He had stopped playing when John entered but didn't turn around.

"Hello John" Sherlock said in a soft voice.

"Sherlock" John replied. He starred at the back of his head, ready to face him and he expected Sherlock to face him too, ready or not.

"How is Rosie" Sherlock asked, his voice was still calm and still he didn't look at John, who still stood by the door, trying to make him turn around by starring at him.

"Good" John said passiv-aggressiv. He wasn't here to Chat about the well being of his daughter. He was here to clarify things.

"I'm sorry that i wasn't at the funeral, i figured you didn't want me there" Sherlock said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"No, i didn't"

"So why are you here now?" Sherlock turned around. Did he looked different? John couldn't tell. Maybe his mind tried to trick him. But his face looked harder than he remembered, older, like a heavy weight laid on him.

"I'm ready to talk to you. About what happened. About Mary" the Name hung in the room between them like a heavy parfum. Impossible to breath through.

Sherlock nodded and gestured John to sit down. Both men sat down in their chairs by the fireplace. Silence. They looked at eachother. If a third Person would have walked in, they would have seen a freeze frame of two sitting men facing each other without visible emotions.

But for them, it was enough to understand. Sherlock looked at John and saw his willingness to talk and to get over with things, his preparedness for what sherlock might have to say, ready to accept. He saw the soldier in him.

John looked at Sherlock and saw the grief. He saw the closed Expression of a man who tried to hide his emotions but the harder he tried, the easier was it for John to read him. He could see the human in him.

"You already know who she was, what kind of Person she was. You where there, at the Aquarium." Sherlock finally started.

"I don't know what happened. I came to late, i thought you would protect her like you promised. You gave a vow and you broke it" Johns voice was loud and clear. He shouted his feels in Sherlocks face who's eyes were fixed on a Point behind John.

"I promised to be there. To do my best. But i knew that eventually, i couldn't protect her. She was the only Person who could protect herself. But i promised to be there, John. And i'm still going to keep that promise." Sherlocks voice didn't raise, but his eyes met Johns.

"A promise isn't enough. It wasn't enough" John responded, tears in his eyes. Tears, which finally rolled down his face. Not after the Aquarium, not at funaral, but now.

"I know. And i'm sorry" John didn't know when Sherlock stood up but he felt his soft Hands embracing him. Felt his arms holding him while he wept. The strenght and at the same time softness of the hug camled him down. He let his head rest on Sherlocks shoulder, let the tears running down his face and let his feelings overwhelm him.

"Is Rosie safe?" John said after a pause. After he whiped the tears away.

"Yes" Sherlock replied. He softly let go of the other men.

"Good"

Silence.

"I should go. The others are probably waiting for me" John finally said and stood up.

"John" Sherlock called him back "If you need something,anything, you know where you find me"

John nodded and was about to walk downstairs when he heard Sherlock say "And my greetings to Harry"

"How do you...nevermind. Ok"

When John stepped out of 221b Baker Street again the rain had stopped and the sun shone through the Grey clouds. Deep in thoughts, John walked home. In his mind he repeated the converstation over and over again, trying to figure out what he was Feeling. Was he sad? Griefing? He had his griefing, he was feeling sad, but was it because his wife died or because of the lost friendship to Sherlock? Was he angry? Yes. But not at Sherlock. More at his past wife for all the lies, the secrets and the lack of trust. Angry because he felt like a chessman, but more like a pawn instead of an important Piece. Somebody kept pushing him around, like he was not really included in the game but tried to stumble through it without knowing what was going on. And when he thought he finally understood the Strategie, there was always another plan hidden, always a plot Twist. His head ached.

John opened the door and heard Harry and Molly in the kitchen talking. The two woman where cooking when he entered. Harry looked up form her pan and smiled at him. "Hey brother. Perfect Timing, the noodles are ready in a second."

"How was your walk?" Molly asked. "Good. Sherlock says hi"

"You saw Sherlock?" Molly said surprised. "uhm, yes. Bit unexpected but why not"

"So you forgave him?" Harry asked "Abou what you told me"

"Forgave?" Molly repeated, looking form Harry to Molly.

"His vow. He promised to protect us." John said, his voice hardening for a second.

"Oh. I think you misunderstood something" Molly smiled weakly at him.

"He promised to be there. To be alive, for you. To be by your side. I think that was what he really meant. He was in bad shape around that time, remember?"

"Oh."

(AN: this was part1)