Strawberry Blood

Chapter One

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.