Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.
Ferretina here, I hope you like my fanfiction, which will hopefully be updating every week depending on length of update. If I make a mistake in spelling or phrasing please feel free to comment so I can fix it. I would love to hear feedback and any way I can improve this fanfiction. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 part 1
--John--
I am sitting in the armchair opposite of Sherlock. I watched him. He hadn't been the same since he had discovered his sister, Eurus. He sat slumped in the chair with a haunted look in his eyes as he stared emptily at a pack of cigarettes held loosely in his hands. It has been two months since we had got back from Sherrinford and one monthe since I had moved back in with him, bringing Rose with me. It hadn't helped and I am getting worried. He says he is fine but I have been sitting in this chair for an hour drinking tea that I made for us and he hasn't noticed. Usually I would simply think that he was just too busy thinking to acknowledge my presence but he hasn't touched his tea. That never happens. Usually he throws a fit when something bad happens or shoots holes in the wall. This time nothing. I have had enough and I am getting seriously worried. I need to do something. "Right," I say in a no-nonsense tone, while standing up, "Get up. This has gone on long enough. We're going to solve a case." Sherlock merely grunted in response. This is going to take a lot of work.
It had been three weeks since my last attempt at getting Shelock out of his listless moping. With every passing day I get increasingly worried and a little piece of me breaks. Even Rose has picked up on it. She wakes up in the middle of the night crying and nothing I can do seems to calm her down. Sherlock was always amazing at getting her to calm down. Now he ignores her just as he does me, but I don't think he realises that he is doing it. It is as if the life is slowly leaking out of him like a balloon slowly deflating. I know that Sherlock is brooding over what happened with Molly and needs a push in the right direction. I juat hope I am doing the right thing.
My hand shakes as I look up Molly's number on the contact list in my phone. I take a deep breath before I press the call button.