"How are you feeling today, John?"
I sit and stare at down at my hands. There's no reason to respond.
We sat like that for the next hour until the therapist sighed and said,
"See you next week John."
Next I head over to the coffee shop on the corner. The lady gives me a wane smile, but I keep going to my corner where I sit, staring off into space. This is how it is every day. Every month.
My watch goes off, reminding me where I have to be.
***
Sherlock's P.O.V.
"Brother dear, you really should go visit your pet doctor."
I frowned , wondering why he would suggest that.
"Why?"
Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, a habit I hated. "Because, brother, his wife is in a coma and his child is dead."
"What could that possibly have to do with me, and along with that, it was six months ago."
Mrs. Hudson was delivering her tea when I said this and she let out a gasp.
"Sherlock, how could you say such a thing?! Think about how long it took John to get over your death. And you actually came back!"
"Yes, but that was me."
Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson shared one of their infuriating looks, that suggested they were sympathising. Peoples feelings never ceased to irritate me.
"Alright! I'll go visit him!" I went to go fetch my coat and scarf.
"Oh and brother dear?" Mycroft called. I turned around, exasperated.
"What?"
"You'll find him at the hospital."
***
John was indeed in Mary's room, staring into space. I walked in, smile on my face, ready to make John's day. It had been three months since I had seen him.
"Hello John."
He did not move. I walked over and tried again, with a more "normal" approach.
"How is she today?"
He didn't even look up. I frowned and sat down, staring into space with him. After fifteen minutes, he spoke up.
"You didn't attend the funeral."
I nodded. "Nasty things. Too many tears and hugs. Very inconvenient for me ."
He turned his face and to my surprise, he had trails of water running down his face.
"Good god, John, are you crying?"
A look of rage passed over his face.
"Get out Sherlock."
"I never understood why people cry. It's all very dramatic."
His voice was very quiet. "Get out Sherlock."
"I mean, it just causes an unnecessary scene."
"GET OUT, SHERLOCK."
He was trembling.
"Get out." He slumped back into his chair, sobbing. "Get out."
I left the doctor feeling confused and with a strange ache in my chest.
****
Did you like this? I hope so
Feedback? Love you my bunnies!
~Mrs. Styles (Violet)
