Loving The Sociopath (Johnlock)

The Withering Rose

(A/N: I suggest you get a box of tissues cause I cried a river writing this.)

As I opened the door to the flat, Mrs Hudson immediately rushed over to me and engulfed my much taller body into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh Sherlock," she sobbed into my coat. I leaned down and rested my forehead on top of her soft, greying hair. I pushed away tears as I hugged my landlady back, without as much force.

After a while, Mrs Hudson spoke.

"How is he today?" I sighed.

"Much the same, though the doctors say different."

"What do you mean?"

I rubbed my face with my hand and hung my head.

"They think he has about a week. So any day now really." Tears blurred my vision and every emotion revolving discomfort filled up inside me. My heart felt as if it were sinking - though that's not actually possible.

"When can you visit him again?" I wanted her to stop asking questions in all honesty, but I still answered.

"Visiting hours start again at 6 but I'll leave here just before 5:30. I need to get something for him." She tried smiling after I'd finished talking, but it didn't really work as she burst into tears again.

We ate together that evening. Mrs H cooked a simple yet delicious dinner (and forced me to eat it all). Once I'd finished, I checked my watch. 5:25.

"Mrs Hudson," I called out to the kitchen. "I'm just leaving. I'll send him your love." And with that, I slammed the door to 221B and hailed a cab.

***

I walked through the main entrance to Bart's Hospital and went straight to the room I dreaded. Slowly and quietly I opened the door to his room and stepped in. The whole hospital smelt like disinfectant so it didn't surprise me that this room did too.

I carefully approached his bed and, once he'd heard me, his view cut from the window to my tired-looking face.

"Sherlock, you don't have to keep visiting if you don't want too." He smiled sheepishly as I sat in the chair next to the hospital bed.

"John Hamish Watson. Why in heaven's name would I not want to visit you?"

John smiled a bit wider and weakly pushed himself up so his back rested on the headboard of the bed. "It's the 5th time you've visited this week, and it's only Tuesday!" He giggled.

He looked so tired and fragile. His skin was a pasty white and his eyes were baggy and had brown rings around them. He looked so different, yet he was still the same inside.

"I bought you something," I said, smiling slightly. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a white rose.

"Thank you Sherlock, it's lovely." I grinned at his reaction and placed the flower in a glass of water on the table next to John's bed.

We spoke for what seemed like a century, but was only a mere two hours. I told John about Anderson and Donovan were pretty much the same, but weren't allowed to work together anymore as Lestrade had caught them in his office...I pity Greg, really I do. I also told him how Mrs Hudson was coping, and gave John her love. He then told me that Molly would come and see him everyday whilst on her lunch break and when family and friends visiting hours were over. I guess working at Bart's did have its upsides sometimes. I made a mental note to thank Molly for all her support.