I Never Told You

by Texmex007

Post-Reichenbach Fall. Songfic. John finds himself cracking under the pressure of not having Sherlock around and he is contemplating about all the things that he misses about the consulting detective. I do not own Sherlock, nor the song "I Never Told You"-it is Colbie Caillats. R&R

I Never Told You

By: Texmex007

A.N: Another Johnlock Songfic-I do not own Sherlock or "I Never Told You". The song is Colbie Caillat's. It's set after the fall with John trying to hold himself together like every day after the fall, it's killing him how much that he should've told Sherlock, but never did.

Oh God.

John leaned over on the old, beat up couch in flat 221B, holding something that appeared to be a blue scarf.

It was Sherlock's.

As John clutched it in his hands, he tried to dam the tears from spilling out his clenched shut eyes, tried to stop remembering everything, like those brilliant, blue-green eyes. He tried to dam the thoughts of them from entering his mind, the thoughts of his deep, bartone laugh, that brilliant smile… Everywhere. Sherlock was everywhere. John could look around the room and see all the ghosts of Sherlock's memory as if he were still there. Still alive.

I miss the way we would fall asleep on this couch, your head on my shoulder, my arm around you. I can't believe I still want you Sherlock-after everything… I never told you, Sherlock, I never did…

With the window curtains drawn closed, there is no sunshine-no sunrise, no sunset. It's as if that day never passed. Like it didn't happen, that Sherlock was still in bed asleep or out getting something new to blow up. But it did happen.

Remember the time we went to Buckingham Palace, and you showed up in a sheet-nothing but a sheet? And, remember the laughter we shared? The giggles we let escape at crime scenes? The quiet, exclusive moments when you played your violin and I reclined in the chair, watching, listening, enjoying your melodies and your beautiful countenance in such deep concentration. The time we held hands while running away from the cops. When you would yell at the telly and I'd laugh at you.

I can't believe you're gone Sherlock.

As if it were possible, the grip on the scarf tightened. He buried his face in the fabric, breathing in the residual scent of the great, consulting detective.

I never told you what I should have said, Sherlock…What I should have said…I..Oh God, Sherlock…I just held it in, and now, your gone..

The dam broke. He didn't try to stop them this time. He let them fall. In the quietness of the dark flat, three words were softly manifested in the room;

I loved you.