A/N: Well, this is unexpected! This popped into my head on the bus to school yesterday, and I typed it up on my phone while I waited for the painting studio to open. I suppose this breaks my streak of entirely happy Sherlock fics, doesn't it? Ah well. It was bound to happen at some point!
Warnings: Trigger warning for use of alcohol. Could be considered Reichenbach spoilers, but it's fairly ambiguous so... interpret however you like.
Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock, we'd have season three by now.
Coping (Mostly)
John is getting much better (on the outside).
It's been well over a year now, and he's functioning quite well these days, compared to the months immediately after, when he was a dead man walking (and wished he was just a dead man).
He has new friends now (no best friend; that place is forever taken), and a few hobbies, and he spends far less time sitting alone in his new flat.
But sometimes (often) there are moments, the times when someone delivers the punch line of a funny story, John laughs, everyone else laughs, and he looks beside him expecting to see that familiar amused-but-denying-it smirk (the one that haunts his dreams), and instead there's the face of someone else, red and roaring with laughter, where he ought to be (was always meant to be), and for half a moment he feels all the loss of that day come back like a punch in the gut (or an impact on pavement).
And he'll shove it down inside (fight it, soldier), and keep smiling, but when he laughs next, it will sound hollow and false (empty, like the rooms on Baker Street).
And his friends might see, but they've learned by now that nothing can truly help him in moments like this, so they order another round and hope the next drink can ease the pain (they know this routine by heart).
And John will knock it back, and relish in the burn of the liquor as it starts to drown the burning of his heart (he wonders sometimes if he shouldn't just let the flames consume him instead).
And for a little while, the memories will fade to a blur, and so does the world, and he can breathe again (he wishes at times that he could just stop).
John is getting better (not really), but sometimes (so often) there are moments.
A/N: There you have it! Feel free to let me know what you think!