Don't. be. dead.
He traced his fingers around the coffee table that had once been a part of his daily life. He never noticed all of the stories that it could tell. The mug stain from when John first came to the apartment, the scratch from John's cane resting on it, the- Sherlock stopped; he didn't want to tempt himself any longer. All the stories it could tell, and Sherlock had never once noticed it. He stirred around the room examining everything that he had never noticed while living in 221B. All the memories with John and their adventures; how he missed every one of them. Damn. Again he thought of John. It had been a mere week since his death and he wanted to check up on John. He was afraid of what would happen after he saw the look on his face at the hospital.
Sherlock was never afraid of being discovered. He told Mycroft before his brother could have the pleasure of figuring out his fake death. Mycroft had been updating him on John's condition to stop Sherlock from risking revealing himself to John and Moriarty's henchmen. No matter what Sherlock said, his brother never believed that he could have bribed or beaten all of Moriarty's men. Silly Mycroft, he thought, always the careful one. He knew that Mycroft would eventually find out he had returned to his apartment, but he had a few moments to soak back in his normal life.
Normal. Sherlock pondered. He chuckled; it was anything far from normal. He felt bad leading John into all of his mischievous acts, but he couldn't help but feel like they were made to be together. Not together as a couple…but….sigh. Sherlock stumbled over his thoughts like how John used to get flustered when people called them a couple.
By now he had made his way across the room to his old bedroom. Shocked, he starred at the empty room, it almost seemed like he had never left. He eyes gazed over the clothes strayed from the chair to the bed. Clearly, John had been having company visit. Sighing, he wondered if there could ever be something between them. He had always loved John as a friend to start off, but it grew to be more than that. He loved John, and wasn't afraid to say it….in his head. The problem was John would never feel the same way as he does. With every girl the Doctor brought home Sherlock's jealous grew. He wanted john all to himself.
Gazing out the window, he saw John across the street. John had changed his entire life after his fall. His face grew long and pale as the days went on. Sherlock had always kept a close on him; for his protection and because he longed for the sound of his voice. The Doctors blog had ended with the scandal that occurred after he admitted making up Moriarty, but John knew otherwise. Sherlock glanced over the glowing screen filled with information about Sherlock; newspaper reports, case files, and even some family albums that Mycroft had lent him. He turned back to the window. John was chatting on the phone by now, probably Ms. Hudson having a fit about something going wrong. She too grew lonely after Sherlock's death.
John eyes were scanning the road, preparing to cross when his eyes met the strange figure standing in the window.
