Listen to Raein by Olafur Arnalds while reading this.
I think it fits the story perfectly, the combination of violin and piano.
He watched the footage from the night before and he finally realized the significance of the situation.
At first he assumed Sherlock was just being over dramatic, but...it was very serious.
He was going to get extra help to watch him after they talked.
Which is something It seems Sherlock could do now.
Hell.
This has only been hell.
He reached the room and softly opened the door.
Mycroft agreed to keep control of his emotions this time, for Sherlock's sake.
He stopped in his tracks, staring at the bed.
No.
NO.
This can't be.
There is no way.
It was completely empty...
Sherlock was sitting in Angelo's restaurant, at an empty table.
His and John's table.
The one that they sat at for years.
Angelo walked over and frowned slightly.
" Sherlock."
He looked into the owner's pitying eyes as he nodded and walked away.
The consulting detective never got food anyways.
He stared across the table, into the empty space.
John.
Warm, smiling, lovely John.
Much more beautiful than mind palace John, who was just temporarily filling the hole.
He felt tears drip down his cheeks and stood silently, placing a flower down on John's chair.
He walked down the street, feeling like his insides were boiling.
It was busier then usual, people were flooding the area, talking on their cell phones and holding crying children.
Sherlock's face had more edges and depth than usual, it was shallow and dark circles had begun to form.
He was starting to look his age, visible pain on his face.
He entered the flat, Mrs. Hudson was no where to be found.
It was like she had disappeared along with everyone else.
His feet felt heavy as he clomped up each stair.
Sherlock opened the door to their...his... flat and almost collapsed.
When he looked at the couch, he remembered that night when their limbs were tangled, close, warmth.
He saw the floor, and saw them sitting there, playing chess with John asleep on his shoulder.
Suddenly, there were footsteps coming from John's bedroom.
Sherlock's eyes lit up and he sprinted like a madman in that direction.
" John!"
He threw open the door, only to find a woman standing there, looking shocked.
She was holding some old pictures.
He straitened up.
" Harriet Watson, I presume."
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 - *...
