Rivers

Chapter Thirteen

The last two hours have been full of me making tea and watching Sherlock strum his violin, echoing glorious sounds. He hasn't spoken a word since John's... passing.

"Do you want any tea?" I ask him, stirring a spoon in the cup, mixing the sugar in. He doesn't answer me.

I walk in the living room and sit the tea beside him on a table. He's sitting in one of his chairs, starring at the empty seat that used to occupany John on their adventurous cases.

"He had so much to live for," Sherlock whispers, his voice chipping away. I place my hands on his shoulders and plant a small kiss on top of his head.

That sentence he spoke activates something inside me. He had so much to live for. Its as if the mysteries, the cases, everything gave his life purpose. He has a daughter. She's never going to remember her father.

As my phone rings, it makes me jump, breaking the dreaded scilence in 221B.

Molly Hooper is calling me.

"Hey," I mumble, making my way into the hallway so Sherlock can have his quiet.

"Are you with Sherlock?" she quickly asks. Her voice is fast and excited, which it shouldn't be judging by a beloved death just occurred.

"Yeah."

"I think you should be the one to tell him this," she says.

"Tell him what?"

"John's alive. His heart somehow revived minutes after his death was called. The doctors said they had made you and Sherlock already leave the room, but they informed us and I felt that Sherlock needed a little more time, so I waited but Jacqueline, this is a miracle."

***

Watson is sitting in as different hospital bed in a completely different hospital part. Two pints of his blood have been taken and are laying on a metal table beside the bed.

His face is flushed, leaving a pale, colorless hue. On his forehead, a mangeled scar is stretched from his temple to the middle of his hair line. Cuts and bruises cover his arms, neck, and face.

"I didn't predict this," Sherlock admits in a quiet, raspy voice.

Watson pushes himself up straight and stares at Sherlock for a minute. "Well." He pauses, as if waiting for a respon
se, but we don't say anything. "You can't predict everything," he finishes and adds a smile.

He's smiling after he died and came back alive again. If I were him, I'd be shocked, too shocked to even speak a word in fact. Currently I'm finding it difficlit to utter a single sentence.

"Perhaps Jacqueline could write a novel about this," Sherlock smirks.

I bite my lip and squeeze my jacket sleeve. John's alive and he's not dead. He was dead.

I watched him die.

I watched John die.

"Jacquline?" John's voice intteruptes. I flash my head up in his direction.

"You're not talking," Sherlock says. "You haven't spoken a word. Are you alright?"

Sherlock walks up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. He's treating me like all I need in sympathy, like I'm some emotionally unstable girl.

I'm just an emotionally effected girl.

"I'm fine," I force out and bring my eyes to look at the ground. "It's just... hard to see John and everything, but I'm fine." I pause and look up at Sherlock with his ice blue eyes and dark, ruffled hair. He may treat me like someone I'm truly not, but he does it because he cares for me. "I promise." For that moment when we're both looking at eachother, not speaking a word, my stomach feels like it just did a backflip, my body suddenly feels warm, and I could kiss him. I could kiss him right in front of John and not even care because I think I love Sherlock Holmes.

"Did you call me John?"

We both flash out of our stance at John's voice.

"What?" Sherlock questions.

"Jacqueline," John assures, pointing his head in my direction. He positions his back more firm. "She called me John. She always calls me Watson like you, Sherlock."

"Oh!" I remark and stop leaning against the wall. It's disrespectful. I looked like I didn't care about John and truly, I do. I want to be here and help him as much as I can. "Yeah, I just. I don't know. Why not? That's your name."

John chuckles at what I said as a nurse walks in with a huge smile on her face.

"It's almost after hours. You'll have to leave within a couple minutes, I'm sorry," she informs Sherlock and I.