The phone clattered to the floor.
Sherlock's face became completely blank.
" Sherlock!?"
" Sherlock!"
I stood there, not moving, not breathing.
Completely blank.
My mouth is in a small o shape and my hand was still in the position of holding my phone.
Obviously in shock.
I sat down slowly and stared into nowhere.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
It seemed like seconds later when Lestrade and a few ambulance members arrived.
Greg slapped me in the face, trying to snap me out of it.
I felt no pain.
All over I felt numb.
I couldn't feel a thing.
" Sherlock, can you hear me? Speak to me!"
Nothing.
There was nothing to say.
There was nothing left.
I felt myself being dragged away.
John.
John.
John.
He isn't dead.
He can't be dead.
It's absurd.
It's a trick.
Where's the body?!
No words could form on my lips.
John.
John Hamish Watson.
The John I shared all those moments with.
The only moments that mattered.
John.
John.
John.
The only man I had loved.
The only man I ever will.
Lovely lovely John.
I told him that he would never die.
He's not dead.
Not John.
Not beautiful, fragile John.
John.
No.
No.
No.
While I was in shock, Lestrade was explaining to me what happened.
" It was so ugly Sherlock, so ugly. His face was all bashed up and it was just...messy. I'm...I'm so sorry. We called as soon as we got the DNA test results. The driver picked up speed and drove about 70 miles per hour, possibly drunk, into a tree. We'll all miss him so much. I can see why you can't talk... there's no point."
Greg started crying.
" There's too much death. Too much."
Greg held his face in his hands.
YOU ARE READING
A Photo Of John
FanfictionWhile snooping in Sherlock's room, John finds a horribly embarrassing picture of himself in Sherlock's coat pocket with the words "never forget" on the back. What does it mean? Well John plans on finding out, that's for sure. - Eventual Johnlock - *...
