Angst because angst, short but I hope people still like it! Set after TRF, Johnlock if you squint.
Sherlock, John's dead – MH
In the middle of a quiet Wimbledon street a mobile phone clatters to the ground and its owner bends over slowly to pick it up.
The owner of the phone was a man with pale skin and dark curly hair, a man who, to all that cared, dead to the world.
Sherlock Holmes re-read the message on his phone before hailing a cab and rushing to 221B Baker Street.
How? –SH
A thousand possibilities crossed through his mind as he stared through the dirty window of the cab, one of Moriarty's men? Car accident? Sickness? The answer he received was not one he had expected and one that made the tall, emotionless man almost breakdown.
He killed himself –MH
Suddenly the cab stops at its destination and Sherlock hands the cabbie a wad of cash.
"Mate this is way over the amount you owe-"
"Keep it" Sherlock's voice is hollow and empty as he gets out of the car and walks into 221B, it was unlocked.
Climbing the stairs, Sherlock feels his phone vibrate.
Sherlock don't do anything stupid –MH
Ignoring the message, he slips his phone back into his pocket and enters his old flat, looking in every room for his best friend.
Eventually only his old room was left. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock steadies himself before entering but nothing could prepare his for the sight of John, wrapped up in Sherlock's favourite coat, lying on his bed with a bullet through his brain, a photo of him and Sherlock still in his hand.
Finally Sherlock can't take it anymore and his walls come crashing down.
Sobbing, he removes the photo from John's dead hand and holds it in his own.
Sherlock, please I'm begging you. Don't do what I think you're going to do –MH
Turing over the photograph, Sherlock finds a message scribbled in black ink.
I'm sorry Sherlock, See you soon.
Your blogger,
John Watson.
Sherlock lays down the photo next to John and sends a quick text.
Goodbye Mycroft –SH
Taking John's hand in his own, Sherlock picks up the fallen gun and lies down next to John.
"I'm sorry John. I hope you can forgive me, because I was lost without my blogger" Sherlock murmurs.
His phone goes off but the detective chooses to ignore it, already knowing what it'll say.
Taking one last look at John's dead body, Sherlock gives his hand a squeeze and lifts the gun to his head.
"Goodbye"
Well... I hope you liked it. Please R&R I'm new to writing Sherlock fanfics and it would be really nice.
