Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of these characters, they belong to the wonderful people of BBC. Thanks for introducing them into our lives!
John would come back.
John had to come back.
John was his assistance, and he needed an assistance. John knew this and would never leave him. As such it was impossible for John to be dead because that would mean John had left him and Sherlock needed John.
The explosion that occurred in the old warehouse two weeks ago when Sherlock and John were chasing two men suspected of being involved in a human trafficking scheme blew the building to high-heavens. Sherlock had lost sight of John as they had split up to each run down one of the suspects. Whereas Sherlock had followed the man into the streets and through the alleyways further away from the warehouse where the man hoped to lose Sherlock in the twists and turns of the alley, John had followed his directly into the warehouse.
The explosion that occurred not long after the split was strong enough to blow Sherlock clean off his feet and into the side of a brick building and into unconsciousness.
When Sherlock awoke several hours later it was to the scene of a clean, sterile, private hospital room with Mycroft seated in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside the bed, and Lestrade seated on the other side of Sherlock asleep in a similar uncomfortable looking plastic chair. When Sherlock was able to focus more clearly and think rationally he cleared his throat and asked Mycroft who was looking faintly relieved, "Where's John?".
Sherlock was released from the hospital, with the help of Mycroft, the day before the funeral. Mycroft insisted that Sherlock not be alone and even offered to have Sherlock stay with himself or even Mummy. Sherlock refused to answer and continued to stare at the wall such as he had been doing for several hours now, since he had returned home. Finally Mycroft realized that this was pointless and took his leave stating that a car would be around to pick Sherlock up tomorrow in time for the funeral. Sherlock didn't even blink as his brother left the flat.
As Mycroft was leaving 221B Baker Street he asked a Mrs. Hudson, with her tearstained cheeks, to call him in there was any type of emergency with Sherlock. Before he left both people turned their heads upstairs to where Sherlock was and wondered how long it would be until Sherlock healed. If he even would. Frankly both of them wondered if perhaps Sherlock would soon try to follow John, just as John followed Sherlock so many times before. Mycroft made a note to himself to up the security on his little brother and then took his leave.
Sherlock did not say anything the rest of the day or during the funeral. When asked to speak he continued to stare directly in front of him just as he had been doing the entire time. John's sister Harriet, old army buddies, Lestrade, Hrs. Hudson, and Molly, all stood to speak but Sherlock remained still and silent. If he had been laying down it would not have been difficult to believe that he should be the one in the expensive, dark, casket (a gift from Mycroft). Afterwards, when Sherlock would still not speak, or even look at the people around him, Mycroft took him home and repeated to Mrs. Hudson what he had said the previous day.
Now a week later Sherlock looked out the window of 221B Baker street and wondered where John was. It was very inconsiderate of him to disappear like he did and make everyone act all crazy as if he was dead. When Mycroft first told him the news, looking as if he was speaking of the death of his own close family member, Sherlock couldn't believe it. John couldn't be dead. It was impossible. It had just been a routine chase of dangerous criminals, just like it always had been, and although there were times when one or both of them were in serious danger or even seriously hurt they still came out of it alive and (reasonably) well.
It must had been a mistake. When Lestrade had told him that both the body of John and the criminal he was chasing had been discovered, both badly damaged, Sherlock felt that the incompetence of the Yard had grown even worse. Of course it couldn't be John. John had survived war and whatever Sherlock threw his way so a silly little thing like a warehouse blowing up should not be of no worry.
Even when he had been taken to the morgue to identify the body which a sobbing Molly had loudly led them to, he refused to believe it. Yes the man on the table with the severe burns looked like John, yes the man on the table had a bullet scar on his left shoulder like John had, yes the eye color, hair color, facial features, height, weight, and everything else was like John, but it couldn't be. Sherlock adamantly denied that this corpse laying on this stainless steel table in a cold morgue could have been the most important person in his life. It was Lestrade and Mycroft who finally gave the okay for this person to be John Hamish Watson. They could no longer hold back, especially once DNA results confirmed the identity. Yet Sherlock refused to believe and took his anger out on the other two men since they should be out looking for the real John Watson since this person was obviously a fake!
Mycroft and Lestrade just showed pity and sadness as they led a still protesting Sherlock back to his room.
During the funeral many people came up to him and asked him to speak or as why he wasn't going to speak? It didn't make sense to Sherlock to speak at the funeral of a man who he didn't know and who was being mistaken for his best friend. Since the body in the casket was definitely not John it would be an insult to John to make mention of his wonderful persona and have it be attributed to this strange duplicate.
Eventually after several more days people stopped coming around and left him to his solitude. He overheard Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft taking about sending him to see help such as a therapist to help him come to terms with Johns death. But since Sherlock knew that John could not be dead then it made no since to try to come to terms with it. Lestrade came with several new cases and even some cold case files but Sherlock ignored both the cases and the detective-inspector and eventually Lestrade left.
It's been two weeks since that explosion and Sherlock had finally started to talk again. Although what was said might be worse than not speaking. When Mycroft came for one of his frequent visits he asked Sherlock why he kept starting out the window. After several moments Sherlock replied, not looking at Mycroft but still out the window as if if he turned away from it for a minute then he would miss something important, "I am waiting for John to come home". Mycroft actually had to hold himself back from reaching out and embracing his little brother. His sad, lonely, wrecked brother who had finally found acceptance and happiness with another person and would now, after only a short time with that person, be forced to live the remainder of his life without that person. Perhaps it would have been better if Sherlock and Dr. Watson had never met. Better that Sherlock believe he is content than have him understand just how very lonely and unhappy he really is.
Two weeks went into three and then four, one month into two. It had been two and a half months since John Watson had been killed in an explosion in an abandoned warehouse and still Sherlock stays in 221B Baker street looking out the window waiting for him to come back. He no longer took cases or even smoked. Sherlock was worried that if he wasn't here and John came back then John would simply leave again. Sherlock gave up smoking because he needed to be in a clear mind in case he wasn't attentive enough and John could walk right by and Sherlock would miss him.
Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, even Molly all still came to visit him and by now they knew not to expect any type of conversation or even acknowledgement. They just sat there, some with pity, some with sadness, some with remorse for failing to protect Sherlock, as they watched Sherlock gaze out into the world waiting for the impossible and still unable to accept that John Watson wasn't coming back.
Once the visitor of that particular day left Sherlock wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and took a sip of his tea that Mrs. Hudson had made for him and continued to look out the window.
John would come back.
John was not dead.
John was not killed in an explosion and he was most certainly not buried in a grave under six feet of dirt and mud.
Sherlock needed John and John knew this and so John would never leave because John was loyal and wonderful and needed Sherlock just as much as Sherlock needed him.
If Sherlock just waited long enough John would come home and, after Sherlock gave him hell for being away for so long and making everybody believe he was dead, Sherlock and John could go back to solving cases and being together. Johns things; computer, favorite mug, everything, was still right where the doctor had left them so that everything could be resumed from exactly they left off.
Sherlock smiled. Yes, John would come back.
There was only one thing that puzzled the great consulting detective. A little bothersome thing in the back of his subconscious. Sherlock refused to actually think about it but it also helped to explain why Sherlock waited in 221B Baker street.
If Sherlock was so certain that John wasn't dead...then why was Sherlock so afraid to try and look for him?
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