Told You So

10

John POV

It had been two months since that day Sherlock ran. I never heard from him after that. His stuff was still in our dorm, and it made me feel so horrible. I had caused him to run. The girl he had been seeing magically vanished, and I was the only one to care over what happened to Sherlock.

"Are you John Watson?"

I jumped at my name and looked at the blonde staring at me. "Yes. Who're you?" I asked, looking the blonde girl up and down.

"Mary Morstan. I'm new here."

I nodded, not really caring all that much. Sherlock was gone and probably dead because I overreacted.

"John? Are you listening? I asked if you'd like to go for a cup of coffee or something."

"Sure. I don't see why not."

She squealed and hugged me. I didn't see or hear from her until Friday, the day of our date.

I looked at her smiling widely at me as she sat across from me in the cafè. I sighed as she started to ask questions. It was different; she seemed to like my company though she wasn't Sherlock. I wanted his banter with me.

I excused myself and grabbed my phone as soon as I entered the bathroom, locking it after checking to see if no one was in there with me. I dialed Sherlock's number, not expecting an answer.

"Hello?"

"Uhm, who is this?"

"Jim. Are you John Watson? I happen to know where the owner of this phone is. You wanna talk to him?"

I gulped and freaked out. Who was this Jim guy? How did he have Sherlock's phone? How did he know where Sherlock was?

"Yes. Please put him on."

I heard a slight moan along with a whip sound. "Oooh! Sorry! He'll have to call you back," the Irish voice said as he hung up. I sighed and put my phone in my pocket. I missed my best friend. I didn't want to be on this date.

I made my way back to Mary and told her that I didn't feel well, and I'd have to take a raincheck. She agreed and left me to my thoughts. I made my way to the dorms and looked at Sherlock's stuff, feeling sick.

You are a monster. You let him leave.

I grabbed one of his shirts and held it to my chest, crying myself to sleep that night.

I woke up to my phone ringing obnoxiously loud to show Sherlock's number. I answered it and sighed at the sound of his voice, no matter how broken it was.

"John?"

"Sherlock! Oh my God! You're alive! I've missed you so much!"

"John, save me. I need you...please."

I felt tears coming to my eyes. "Where are you? I'll come get you," I replied, tears spilling out. The line went dead with the sound of a gunshot echoing in my ears.

"Sherlock? Sherlock? Sherlock? No. No, no, no. No! This can't be happening! Not now!"

I threw my phone and freaked out.

He's dead because of you. You killed him. You are a monster.

I tried to shake the thoughts, but they were correct: I did have some play in this.