Johnlock Fluff (mostly) Oneshots

Angst

So I said I'm gonna work on this book everyday of December and I am, even if it's just planning and not actually typing out a story. I thought that I have too many happy stories so here's a sad (but hopefully also fluffy) chapter. Also, TW: suicide and drugs etc. 

3rd POV
It had been 3 weeks since Mary had taken the bullet for Sherlock and John was still ignoring his best friend. He knew it wasn't actually Sherlock's fault, but he needed someone other than himself to blame. In reality, there was absolutely nothing Sherlock could have done to stop her and John knew this but didn't want to acknowledge it. 

In the mean time, Sherlock thought that John had left him forever and he was never going to speak to him again. This drove Sherlock back to his old habits of drugs and smoking. He was slowly killing himself because he blamed himself for what happened to Mary. She gave her life up to save him and that killed Sherlock. Maybe too literally. 

One day, John decided to attempt to apologise to Sherlock for his actions. He wanted to hug him and tell him it wasn't his fault, it was Mary's. He wanted to assure him that he would never leave him again, that he would always be there no matter what. He wanted to tell him that he loved him. 

But John would never get a response. Sure, he did those things, but out of guilt.

When John arrived at the familiar door which brandished the title 221B, he unlocked the door using his old key because Mrs Hudson was out shopping. "Sherlock?" He called out. There was no replied and this worried the doctor. "Sherlock?!" He yelled again, but this time more desperately. 

John couldn't find Sherlock, he wasn't in the kitchen or the living room or his bedroom. Lastly, he checked the bathroom and found his best friend dead on the floor, with empty pill bottles scattered around him. Tears slipped out of the doctor's eyes and ran down his worn face. He ran immediately to check Sherlock's pulse, though he knew he was too late. All he could do was hug his friend and cry, apologising over and over again.

There was a note next to the body that John found. It was a very short, and barely legible due to the amount of drugs Sherlock had taken. All it said was "He won't come back. I can't live without him, so I won't. Tell him I'm sorry - SH" 

John let out a broken sob. This was all his fault. Sherlock had died for him 3 times now, and he couldn't live with that, even if Sherlock had only technically died twice. He cursed himself for being so stubborn. If he had gone back to Sherlock a day, no AN HOUR earlier, then this wouldn't have happened. He would have told him how he felt and he would have been able to prevent this. He should have been able to prevent this. 

John knew he wouldn't be able to live with it being his fault. He knew he couldn't live with it being his fault. So he decided to write his own note. 

"I was once told by a wise man, the wisest and best man that I have ever known, that this is what people do. They leave notes. This is my fault, so I'm going to go be with him. He needs to know I love him. I won't, I can't live with this being my fault. I'm sorry - JW"

John stood from the floor and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His tear stained cheeks, the bas under his eyes, the once bright blue eyes which had now dulled to a grey, he hated it all. This was the man who drove his best friend to suicide, and this was the man who drove him to suicide. 

He placed the note on the counter and pulled out his gun from his belt. He placed the gun inside of his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. His body fell next to Sherlock's, with blood pooling from behind his head. 

That's how they were when Lestrade found them two hours later. He had gone to check on Sherlock, knowing he was having a hard time coping without John. However, he didn't anticipate it to go this far. His best friends, laying dead across the floor. Their love for each other had not gone unnoticed by the DI, but he never thought it would get this bad. Involuntary tears slipped from his eyes as he read the notes left by the two men lying on the floor. 

Greg knew he had to call Mycroft to inform him of his brother's death. Hands shaking, he typed in the number. It rang twice before he picked up. "Greg, what can I do for you today?" He asked. His voice sounded happy, and it broke Greg to know that it would change at a few words. "It's Sherlock and John" He managed to keep his voice steady. "Yes, what about them?" "T-they um they're both de-dead" There was silence from Mycroft. "Wh-what happened?" Mycroft eventually replied. "J-just come to 221B Baker Street and see" "I-I'll b-be the-there shortly."

Mycroft arrived 5 minutes later, and sobbed at the sight of his brother. He had been to wrapped up in his stupid responsibilities to notice that his own brother had reached this point. Even more tears streamed out of his eyes as he read the two notes that had been written. He was the British Government and there was nothing he could do apart from cry into the hug that Lestrade was giving him. 

When the funeral finally rolled around, neither Greg nor Mycroft were ready. Neither were ready to say goodbye. Both gave speeches at the funeral. They had a joint funeral because everyone, apart from them, knew how much they loved each other. 

Mycroft spoke for Sherlock. He spoke of how sorry he was that they weren't closer, that he should have been able to prevent this, that it was his fault. Multiple times he mentioned how he should have known that this would happen. 

Greg spoke for John. He spoke of how much he would miss his best friend and that he wasn't sure what he was going to do now. He said that he could have helped, he should have encouraged John to go back to Sherlock sooner but he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to annoy John, but he knew an annoyed John was a hundred times better than a dead John. 

Meanwhile, John and Sherlock had found each other again as spirits. Sherlock couldn't believe that John had done that for him. He had never thought that anyone would ever love him, let alone John Watson, the one man he would ever show feelings to. They may have left everyone else but they had each other in the afterlife and that was all that ever mattered to them.

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Hey yall, hope ya liked it, I put a lot of effort into this chapter. Also, coincidentally, "See You Again" came on my playlist as I was writing the final chapter of this book so that's fun. Anyway, probably see yall tomorrow for a new chapter (heads up the next three ones are gonna be pretty short but they'll get longer after that).