Just a little Sherlock Shot for you lovely readers.
After trailing through tumblr and seeing the Sherlock gifs I just couldn't help myself; I'm like Sherlock with cigarettes.
MOOOOORE
Disclaimer; don't own this either- I JUST CAN'T CATCH A BREAK!
He still visits your grave you know. Once a week. 7 am. He never places flowers, never speaks or even moves. He just stands there. Staring at your grave Sherlock.
-MH
I know.
-SH
Really?
-MH
Moriarty might be dead, but his followers aren't. I'll go back when I know I can protect him.
SH
Is that fair? I'm no expert on people Sherlock, but I know that John would rather have you.
-MH
I'd rather have John alive.
-SH
Sherlock replied, switching his phone on silent and slipping it into his left pocket. With a sigh he turned away from the window and picked up his Stradivarius once more. The tune wasn't one of melody just random notes, he wasn't fully concentrating afterall. The wall decorated with pins and threads, pictures and cut outs from newspapers and the like garnered much more interest.
Many of these threads had been cut, Sherlock hadn't been wallowing in self pity, oh no, he'd been working. He wasn't the only one missing somebody.
Sherlock's new flat faced directly opposite their old flat in 221b, unfortunately John hadn't been back to the flat in a few weeks. He'd visited Mrs Hudson often, they'd munch their way through a cream pastry of some kind and a pot of tea; but he wouldn't head up into that flat.
The bow of the strad sailed across the room almost smashing his beakers, but the sobbing man bore no notice. Sherlock's back hit the wall of his flat and he slid to the chemical stained floor.
No. He wouldn't get like this again.
He was doing this for John.
Get back to work.
Sherlock ran his hands down his clothes, brushed off his dust and picked up his bow.
Back to work indeed Sherlock.
-MH