Hey. this is my first try writing a sherlock fanfiction so be gentle please
Sherlock FF post-Reichenbach
It was after his best friends death. He had saw him fall from that roof over and over in his dreams. But his brain told him that it wasn't possible that Sherlock Holmes could just die like that. His heart felt like it was just pieces left of the feelings he had a while ago. His thoughts were running since the moment he realized that it couln't be that Sherlock Holmes was dead.
John sat in the now empty flat. It wasn't really empty. All their things were still in place, but without Sherlock it felt liveless. Everything was. He barely moved from his chair. Just staring in the air. Why did he jump? That was his first question. The answer was not so hard to find. It had something to do with Moriarty that was for sure. And the details weren't as important as the next question. Why did Sherlock think he wouln't know that the man couln't possibly be in a situation were he had to kill himself? So the only solution was that Sherlock was alive. And why hadn't he told John his plan? He hasn't contacted John or even told him what was happening. And that was what was driving him insane. Without him his life was useless and he was desperate to get the detective back. John shook his head. Still thinking about a way to get Sherlock back and explaing he stood up and moved to the window. His vison was blurry for a second and he had to steady himself on the table that stood by the windows. With unseeing eyes he looked out of the now dusted glass. He wasn't cleaning their flat anymore and didn't let do it. Nothing should be touched that was once Sherlocks. John looked down on himself wondering when he last ate something and then laughing hysterically as he thought that he started to act like Sherlock. Not eating for days and rarly sleeping. The only thing keeping him alive was the will to bring Sherlock back in his life. The doctor in him screamed at him that he was slowly destroying himself and that he had no desire to stop his behaviour.
He knew that Mycroft was watching him. Another sign that Sherlock had to be alive otherwise there would be no reason for the observation.
John turned around and walked into the kitchen searching for the calender. It actually has been almost two years now. Where did the time go? John opened the fridge and was met with a few dead eyes watching him. He screamed and jumped back. Then after realizing that they just where the normal experiment things that he never ever touched because they were Sherlocks and the wasn't touching anything the man had left him. They were disgusting looking. Not human eyes anymore. More looke demon eyes staring at him from the depth of hell...the water in which they lay was brownish and stank. John closed the door and suddenly it hit him. Sherlock had left him. More than a year he hadn't contacted him or even send any kind of sign that he was still alive. He erased his existence from Johns life. He made him liveless. John sank to his knees. „No no no no nooo!". Clutching his head he screamed. „Why would you do that? Why? Sherlock...". The ending was just above a whisper. Tears streamed down Johns face and fell to the floor. „I can't live without you. Don't leave...WHY?...".
And then he went still and silent all of sudden. When Sherlock wasn't coming to him then he just had to force him. A smile spread across his wet face. To everyone who would walk in on him like this it had to like he finally snaped and was going crazy.
Shaking on his whole body he slowly stood up and walked to his room. There it was. His weapon. His good old gun. He kept it in the drawer next to his bed. How ofter did he held the gun to his head and couln't do it in the end because he knew that the person for who he lived was still out there. He walked into the kitchen and took the biggest knife he could find and took it with him. A case., That was all he needed. A case so big that no one else would be able to solve it. It had to be massive and extreamly dangerous. Scotland Yord was not allowed to be able to solve it. And Mycroft should notice it. And he should call Sherlock. He started to giggle and steped out of his flat. Sherlock wanted a case big enough to come out of hiding? Well he would sure as hell give him one.