A/N: my first Sherlock fanfic, sorry it's very short but I'm writing it on a mobile device so it's hard! x
Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with Sherlock, I'm just a fan!
John gazed out of the window mournfully. He did that a lot these days. He was never looking at anything in particular, always just lost in thought. That was another thing he had started to do a lot - think.
He had never realised how rarely he used his brain before, that is, until now.
Sherlock had been dead for almost six months now, and quite frankly, John had never felt more alone in his life. Mrs Hudson and Molly checked on him frequently to make sure he was doing alright. He couldn't be less alright.
In honesty, Mrs Hudson was an absolute god send and without her there the past six months, John wouldn't like to imagine where he would be. Or maybe he would like to imagine. Maybe he would've been reunited with his friend.
Friend.
The word made John feel uneasy. He decided to lie down on the sofa. He rarely slept anymore, and whenever he did it was never in a bed.
John closed his eyes and let out a long exhale that seemed as though it lasted a lifetime.
Why did he do it?
Why did he have to go and die?
He hadn't even gotten a chance to tell him he loved-
"John," a familiar voice said.
Him.