Johnlock

Chapter 2: No going back

Sherlock sat down and laid his head back on the aeroplane seat. The flight wouldn't be that long, but it brought with it time dedicated to thinking, since Sherlock refused to participate in anything else when traveling. It had only been 2 days since the conversation with his brother, which led to Sherlock's loss of words. He hadn't spoken since then. He had no time. All he had done since that phone call was think. Sherlock hadn't slept either, he wanted to think. This was also a good excuse not to endure any more of the nightmares he now dreaded every time he closed his eyes. As the plane began to slowly usher forward, preparing to take flight, Sherlock let out a deep sigh. He put his hands in a position in front of his face, almost as if he was praying, and rested his chin on his thumbs. Staring at the crevices on his hands, marks and cuts from scientific experiments he used to do in his free time at 221B, he went to his mind palace.

He looked around, standing in a room with tall marble banisters and walls. "John?" Sherlock called, cautiously. There was no reply. Sherlock had often used his mind palace as a retreat from the plan to destroy Moriarty's network, a place where he could see John, his best friend. His one true friend. The one that knew him for real. After thoroughly checking half the rooms in his mind palace, he arrived at a long corridor filled with filing cabinets, each labeled with it's own category. Sherlock looked at the one marked 'John'. He slowly opened the cabinet revealing several files. John's whole existence was documented here, everything Sherlock knew about him, lived in this cabinet. He began flicking trough the files, past cases, things John had said to him, images he had saved in his mind. "Isn't it obvious?" Echoed in his head once again. "Shut up Mycroft" Sherlock spat. "Oh baby brother, stop being so incredibly blind." The voice said from behind him. Sherlock jumped, but then breathed with relief that it was only Mycroft. "What do you want?" Sherlock sighed. Mycroft smiled falsely. "I'm just trying to help you, Sherlock. It is a rare occurrence, I'm aware, but I think it's about time." He said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and reverted back to the files. "Funny, this entire cabinet dedicated to Dr Watson. Look at the other ones - single cabinets containing so many different categories, childhood, education, even your cases. And yet, you have an entire cabinet for John." Mycroft smiled. "And your point is?" Sherlock asked, bored. "I just find it... Interesting." Mycroft smirked, which irritated Sherlock. "Where's John?" Sherlock asked. "How should I know? This is your mind palace..." Mycroft pointed out. "If I am meant to be in control then why are you still here?" Sherlock moaned. There was no reply. Sherlock looked around again, Mycroft had gone.

He continued to look for John, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he arrived at 221B. The flat looked exactly how Sherlock had left it before the fall. His most recent experiment was still on the kitchen table, and the large desk Sherlock & John shared was still cluttered with insignificant evidence from past unsolved cases. The door was already open, so Sherlock stepped in. "...John?" Sherlock asked, softly. John was stood, looking out of the front window. He didn't acknowledge Sherlock's entrance, to his surprise. Sherlock moved closer to him, to get John's attention. He put a hand on John's shoulder, but still, John did not react. Sherlock nudged John around, so he could see John properly. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp. "John what's wrong?" Sherlock was so confused, he'd never seen his Mind Palace John like this, and he was shocked. But he didn't answer. "John answer me" Sherlock said, more sternly. There was a long silence, before John finally croaked "My best friend, Sherlock Holmes, is dead." Sherlock couldn't understand why Mind Palace John was acting so strangely. It was very rare for Sherlock to not know what was happening, unless it was to do with mundane subjects such as knowing the earth revolves around the sun. "Mr Holmes?" A voice echoed.

Suddenly Sherlock was back on the plane, not that he had ever been off it. He tried to focus on the figure talking to him. Young, late twenties. Born with dark hair yet religiously dying it blonde. Make up, lots of makeup, drugstore brand so nothing of real worth. Nail biter, bitten rather a lot recently - possibly due to an uncomfortable pace in her relationship. "We'll be landing in London, Heathrow shortly, Mr Holmes." The girl smiled, with a strong scent of an expensive perfume lingering on her clothing. Sherlock nodded slightly, and the girl walked back to the cabin station. "No going back now." Sherlock sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Time to be brave. For John. Again."