John stood in the middle of the sitting room. Empty. He stopped hoping Sherlock would appear back in Baker
ages ago, but that slight anxious feeling never left. He wasn't sure why he'd gotten up in the first place. It was
well past midnight. He wasn't asleep anyway but his legs just carried him there. He doesn't sleep anymore
not since...
He couldn't even think it. It was too hard. He swallowed the thick bunch of emotions that got caught in his
throat. Two years...today. You would think it go easier. It doesn't. Not for him. He stared at the empty worn
leather chair. Move on. Move on, his mind chanted at him. But his heart ached, not wanting to move on, his
eyes now wet with fresh tears.
When you love someone how are you supposed just move on? Especially if you didn't get to confess your
love for them before they...
He collapsed into the chair. The leather like ice on his bed warm skin. Sobs shaking his entire frame. His face
pressed into the back cushion as his body curled into the chair.
-
John wasn't sure how long he cried but he woke up still in the chair and his shoulder unbearably sore. His
eyes glanced around the flat. Empty. The light filtering through drawn curtains. With a sigh he pushed himself
up, bones cracking and popping. He shuffled into the kitchen, straight to the kettle. Coffee. He had a shift at
the surgery later that afternoon and didn't need to be a walking zombie. He made his coffee slowly trying to
piece the wall he'd built back together so he could face the never-ending line of horrible patients.
He barely let the coffee cool before he swallowed the black liquid down. He put his mug into the sink and
turned around his eyes immediately landing on the small brown paper sack in the middle of the worktop. This
is new. Shuffling forward he eyed the bag more closely then peered inside. Two fresh pastries. His stomach
decided to make its self-known by growling quite loudly. How? When? What? Had to of been Mrs. Hudson's
doing. He'd have to thank her. He grabbed one out and took a large bite. Strawberry. His favorite. He ate the
pastry as he walked to the bathroom.
John showered, shaved and dressed. His morning routine the same it had been for years. He was sitting on
his bed tying his shoe laces when he heard a noise. Thump. He didn't think anything of it, could be Mrs.
Hudson cleaning. He was walking down the stairs when he heard the noise, again. Which sounded more like a
shuffle or something falling to the floor.
He froze on the steps. Mrs. Hudson wasn't home. He remembered
her mentioning she'd be at her sisters a few nights ago. Christ. Adrenaline already pumping through his veins
as he turned and ran back into his room. Grabbing his gun, he checked the chamber. Loaded. Then clicked off
the safety as he left his bedroom once more and proceeded down the stairs. Gun aimed.
YOU ARE READING
Strawberry Blood
FanficJohn was still heartbroken about the sudden suicide of his best friend. There are so many things he wished he could've said, should've said but didn't. "Married to my work" was pretty clear. Two years later still at 221B, John is barely living. He d...