John Watson and the Sociopath

Chapter 6

Sometimes I wonder if, given enough time, I could find my Mind Palace. Maybe I could even keep up with Sherlock's deductions.

But for now, I'm okay to be his sidekick.

Following him around at crime scenes,trying to keep up as we sprint through the alley ways off the streets of London, it's all worth it, as long as he never leaves me again. I didn't mean to break down that night on the couch. I just couldn't help it; I had missed him so much, I had thought he died.

I almost had to jump, too.

It was six months before I could drag myself back to the flat. Mrs. Hudson had left the microscopes and dishes for me to take care of. I saw him, looking through the scope. He wasn't really there, of course, but that didn't stop the tears from running down my face. Maybe if I had said something. If I had told him how I felt, maybe it would have gone differently. I never told him he was my best friend. I never let him know what he did for me. He saved my life. He cured me of my limp. He gave me a purpose, a chance.

He gave me a chance to live a full life.

I still get sad when I think of my last words to him: He had said, "Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." And I had snapped, "No, friends protect people." Only now do I realize what he really meant. If he had never met me, he never would have had to lose me, even if only for a short time.

I stormed off, only minutes before he said those last words. "Good-bye, John."

When sherlock came back, it was like a stab to the heart. A reminder of what I coud have said, or done.

And now I will never, EVER, lose him again.