Suicide of Fake Genius - A Johnlock FanFiction

Seven - John

I'm sorry I didn't post this chapter yesterday. I was having a really bad day and couldn't post. The schedule is still Tuesday's and Friday's, it's just this chapter that was late. <3

Seven

John

It was stupid to even hope that Sherlock would come back, but I couldn't help it. I had to make sure that I wasn't giving up on him too soon.

I call Mrs. Hudson as soon as soon as I get to the car.

She answers with her usual, "Hello dear," and it's comforting—even if that's the one thing that will never change, I'll take it.

"Can I move back in?" I ask quietly, like I'm ashamed to ask, even though I know she'll say yes.

"Of course you can, John. You can have Sherlock's old room if you'd like,"

"I'm fine with my old room, just as long as . . . as long as you don't let anyone else rent it."

x x x

It doesn't take me long to pack all of my things I still had most of it in boxes from when I moved in a few weeks ago. I didn't want to unpack everything, because then it would feel so . . . permanent. I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Mrs. Hudson is happy to see me. She made a classic english breakfast, even though it's almost four o'clock.

While we eat she tells me about this new place she went to for lunch yesterday. "They have the best fish and chips I've ever tasted," she's saying, but I'm only half listening.

My mind is in a million different places, but the main thing I'm thinking is; He's gone. Sherlock is gone, and he isn't coming back. I can hope and pray all I want, but it's useless. He's gone.

"Are you ready for dessert?" Mrs. Hudson asks, even though I'm not even half done with my first plate of food.

I nod and take an bite of beans, pushing them together in a small pile so it looks like I ate more than I did. I learned this trick from Sherlock. If you spread all of your food onto your plate it looks like you haven't eaten any of it, but if you push it all together it looks like you ate most of it.

He used to crumble his biscuits or scones with his fork so it looked like he took a bite out of it. Sometimes he would even hide it under another kind of food so no one asked questions. Sherlock hated that. Whenever I would ask why he didn't eat his food he would roll his eyes and sigh. He never answered.

Mrs. Hudson dished up at spoonful of Trifle and put it in a small glass bowl. I wonder how she had the time to make all of this in such a short amount of time.

Had she known I was coming back? It wouldn't surprise me.

"So," she says, sitting back down. "Why did you suddenly decide to come back?"

Although I'm sure she knows the answer, I say, "I couldn't be alone anymore. The flat I was in was small and boring. Plus, I knew you could use the company."

She doesn't say anything, she just stares sadly at her Trifle like it was the one that said that and not me.

"Well ,I'm glad to have you back," she says quietly, still not looking up at me. "Whatever the reason may be,"

"I'm glad to be back." I say, and I mean it. This is the only place I really feel at home.