His Last Vow (Johnlock)

Chapter 3: Anger

Bonjour!

Here is another chapter! I am so sorry for the lag in updating!! I really like the first part of this chapter and I hope you do, too!!

Vote and comment!!

Xoxo,

Molly

Sherlock

I tear out of the flat, slamming the door loudly behind me. My legs are giving out and I push past the people in my way, not caring who I hit.

My heart beats painfully, I feel like I'm dying. I wish I was. I wish I was dying and not John. Not my John.

I stumble over my feet and fall into a wall. I see an alley in the distance and will my legs to move me towards it. I throw myself into the dark, dank alley and let a sob escape me.

My hands hold me up against the wall as I place my forehead against the cool, hard surface as tears stream down my face.

John's face flutters in front of my closed eyes. He looks happy. His smiling face looking back at me, comforting me.

John.

The images in my head slowly begin to change. John is now typing up a blog entry, using just two fingers to type. I smile. He never uses all his fingers, it use to agitate me to no bloody end, but now it makes me smile as it is something that makes John who he is and I would never want that to change.

The image waves away and new ones begin to form. John falling asleep on the couch, snoring softly. John trying to force me to eat and failing. John flinging insults back at Donovan after she insults me. John running with me trying to catch a criminal. John giggling at a crime scene. John killing someone to protect me...

John sitting in the doctor's office, emotionless. John refusing to talk to me. John wincing at any form of light. John falling trying to bring me tea. John lying in his bed, dying. John taking his last breath. John closing his eyes for the last time. John being lowered into the ground...

John. John. John.

I push myself roughly off the wall and begin to pace, anger beginning to build inside of me. I crouch down on the ground, running my hands harshly through my curls, pulling some out. I stand quickly and throw my hands hard against the wall. Tears of anger, sorrow, and devastation pool in buckets down my face.

I slam my fist against the wall. Pain shoots through my hand, but I don't care. I hit it again, harder. Then again and again and again, my hand going numb from pain. I keep hitting it, my hand breaking, but it doesn't stop me. I hit it over and over again harder each time as blood coats my entire hand.

I hear someone approach, but I don't care. I don't care about anyone or anything right now. Only John. All I care about is John.

"Sherlock." A sad, familiar voice says.

I ignore the voice and continue punching the wall. Blood blots the wall from my hand now, but I continue to hit it, beginning to break some of the weakening plaster.

"Sherlock. Please stop. Stop for John." Mycroft says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Why. Should. I?!" I say, punctuating every word with a blow to the wall.

"John will be upset. He doesn't want to see you hurting yourself over him." He says, trying to get through to me. It works as I stop beating abuse to the wall and place my forehead against it in defeat instead.

Mycroft's hand still rests tenderly on my shoulder, as waves of sobs rack my entire body. He waits silently, letting me sob through my pain.

"He's dying, Mycroft. John's dying." I say, brokenly still not looking at him.