johnlock: forgive and forget

13 Out of reach

John and Sherlock we're lying in their bed. They were content. At last Sherlock and John were happy with their lives. John had got over the war. Sherlock had found someone he truly loved. They had both found something worth living for.
After a long day of work they both new they had something worth coming home to. Neither could live without the other. If either of them were to ever lose the other... they wouldn't see a reason to live anymore.

John awoke with tears in his eyes. He didn't want to live without Sherlock. He was sure that Sherlock was hurt or worse. Dead. If he was still alive why hadn't he contacted him? It felt as if Sherlock was always just out of reach. Never in his grasp. Why should John even allow himself life if Sherlock did not? He couldn't go through life without Sherlock again! He'd had to put up with it for two years and it has broke him.

All he could keep thinking about was how not months ago, he and Sherlock were comfortable at home and couldn't even think of life without each other or ever have to worry about it. Now his life was boring and depressing again. Like it had been just after the war. He had even booked an appointment with his old therapist but it hadn't been any use. He hasn't been back since. What was the point?

The police had given up. Lestrange had given up. Even Mycroft had given up. Only John was still searching. Everywhere he went he was looking out for a turned up collar or his iconic purple shirt. Once he had seen an unruly mop of black hair and had hurried to see if it was Sherlock and had bumped into a man who was most definitely not Sherlock. He had fled the seen as soon as he could. He would do everything he could to get Sherlock back. But John was starting to realise that there was no point to it. Why should he spend all his time searching for a sure to be dead man?