This is my first story so I'm sorry if it's not that great, I really am trying! please review to let me know how you guys feel about it, otherwise I wont know to keep writing this story. These characters are not mine they belong to the fabulous BBC series Sherlock. Enjoy!
Chapter 1:
John thought he was dying. He felt the cold run through all his bones, through his veins like a long black river. From all his life John knew he only ever left Sherlock behind, that Sherlock was the only thing he ever lost. He knew that as much as he had tried to hide his feelings for the only man he ever loved, that his love for Sherlock was always a wave taller than ony other wave. His life to him felt meaningless. John just wanted to see those clear blue eyes up close one more time; more than that, he wanted them to hold his gaze forever and more.
John stood on the sidewalk, thinking of Sherlock, as he watched the cars speed by, the noises of the busy city street filling his ears. To John there was only Sherlock's glance against all this emptiness. But Sherlock was gone. When Sherlock died, everything in Johns life dropped. As he stared ahead he clutched his fists; his chest felt tight, and he brought one hand up to his heart listening and feeling his heart beat through his jumper. He wanted to blow away with the wind and never return.
Sunshine painted all of London gold, it was beautiful, but now everything ordinary felt too beautiful to bear to John. He breathed in slowly, letting it fill his lungs. Everything turned quiet and still; he wanted to go home and dream of Sherlock. To get lost in that ivory skin and see the world in those beautiful expressive eyes. But this pain he harboured. He felt so far away from this life. He felt as if it harassed him and that death would come knocking sooner or later.
He loved Sherlock, oh god he had loved him so much. Just thinking about him made John smile, thinking back to all those memories. But it broke his heart more than anything. His mind relied on something, something to give him solace.
If only i'd known of the right words to say he thought If only I told him that I loved him. John hated himself for it. His therapist had tried to get it out of him but he could never bring himself to say it. Atleast not to her, It wasnt the same and wouldnt make a goddamn difference. Sherlock was gone and would never know that John had loved him more than anything in the world. John felt that this was all he could feel. He pulled his jumper closer and made his way home, carrying shopping bags he picked up on his way from work. Before all this John wouldeve told you it was impossible to be in love with a street, in the time he lived with Sherlock he did, but now he dreaded going home. Making his way home, like every other day, he contemplated going out and about and finding something interesting to do with his evening; like every other evening he ended up deciding against going out.
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"Johnny dear! here let me get those for you" took the bags from Johns hands and set them on the table. She looked tired and sad behind that forced smile. As much as Sherlocks death hurt John, it had hurt Mrs. Hudson as well. "How would you like some tea dear? I baked you something, let me go fetch it" He smiled at her.
"Thanks Mrs.H, that would be lovely" He replied enthusiastically. But as soon as she left John immediatly made his way into Sherlocks room, the tea and biscuits would have to wait. He entered the cold room. Everything about it was so...Sherlock. So much like Sherlock that he could weep. He lied face down on Sherlocks bed inhaling the lasting scent of Sherlock as though he could absorb it through his lungs and keep it in himself, to carry around forever. His fingers quested around for something to hold onto to, as if if he reached out he'd find Sherlocks smooth pale skin, or if he imagined hard enough he thought he could feel Sherlocks hot breathe on his neck. John couldnt ever sleep, his mind was always dominated by a constant string of words and emotions running on repeat through his head. You've ruined me forever Sherlock. He turned onto his back laying his arms out onto the bed.
His thoughts were quickly interupted "ugh-what?" he groaned as his phone rang in pocket startling him and extracting him from those thoughts. "um, hello?" he leaned up on his elbows.
"John! hey, its Sarah." Her voice stung his ears. He thought of her face, her plain ordinary face. He hadnt seen her in over a month. The last time they went out it was absolutly dreadful. They went to a dull cafe on a rainy day, where she repeated over and over again how sorry she was, that if he ever needed anything to call her. Ya right, he'd thought.
"Oh Sarah hey um what, whats up?" He really wasnt in the mood for talking to her. He'd already messed everything up with her and she never was too fond of Sherlock.
"How are you?" she asked "I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight?" He knew that she would ask, thats why he told her he was extremely busy with work and hung up quickly. John spent most of his days watching crap telly, laying in bed tossing and turning longing for a sleep that never came. Reverie consumed him as he thought of Sherlock and what couldve been. He wanted to feel those long spidery like hands on him, needed to feel skin on skin. Of course if he wanted this he could go see Jessica. But it wasnt easy for him to let go of Sherlock. John cried till he felt his eyes had gone dry , until they were red and swollen. Eventually he would drift off forgetting the dangers of sleep.
He made his way to the living room and ploped himself onto his chair. He rubbed his face, feeling the heavy bags under his eyes. Sherlocks chair was right infront of him, he watched it, trying to remember when his flatmate would sit in it, thinking, deducing, working on cases. Oh how much John missed that.
John found it hard to go out and meet new people, he felt the need to protect himself from other people, he thought that they would let him down. Until he met Jessica. "chin up-cheer up" she would say. He met her at an upscale club he'd gone to with Greg. She worked as a waitress and had the most sweetest smile and such an innocent face. She was a girl who read books, who knew life was not a planar, she was a storyteller, she made John laugh and he made her laugh. Jessica possessed a vocabulary beyond John, that could describe a life unfullfilled or could distinguish someone who cannot love her, or the desperation of someone who loves her too much. John wanted to love her, he had thought he was in love the first time he'd seen her but soon after he realized he was incabable of ever loving anyone the way he had loved Sherlock. He really wanted to give her his love but he couldnt anymore now that Sherlock was gone, the person his heart really longed for and needed. But she was deeply madly in love with John.
"I love you John" She had said softly as they layed on the floor of Johns room, only 2 weeks into thier relationship, hands intwined with eacothers, face to face. John could make out every detail in her face. Her deep brown eyes were blown out filled with love, sympathy, knowledge, pain and understanding. He smiled at her and brushed a strand of her black hair away from her cheek. But he had to turn his head and sighed. Her gaze fell from him as she tightened her grip on his hands. "It's ok John, i know its still hard for you. I dont want to rush you into anything. I just, i thought-"
"No, I do feel the same its just that...goddamn it" He sat up resting his weight on his elbows " I dont care about him anymore, hes not coming back so I might as well move on and stop wishing for him to. I want you to see that, that its not because of him anymore. Please just stop feeling so bad for me" He was sick of people always feeling bad for him. Sick of it. Even Anderson and Donovan would look at him with pity. Everyone treated him like a child, and he was going to loose it if he heard another 'I'm so sorry for your loss'.
"Ok, alright. I believe you" Jessica pushed herself up to meet Johns thin lips. He thought back to when he first met Jessica, in the smoke, drunken sweat of a club he forgot the name of. She was smiling all through the night, her eyes glistening and aware. She had short black hair and her bangs made her look even younger. She carried a tray of drinks, disapearing and appearing again. Her skin was alabaster and her cheeks stained with deep pink. It all went too quick. They spoke, John laughed, she smiled, he took her outside and kissed her in the rain because it reminded him of a film he'd seen. As the night died down he took her home and fucked her. Thats how it all went. They talked about nothing of significance and did little thinking. John just wanted something normal and he finally had it and the months passed unnoticed. "Do I remind you of him? Of Sherlock?" she asked smiling.
John had to laugh. "Thats impossible to do." Sherlock felt like nothing to him since John loved him.
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As for Sherlock being dead, well he was nowhere near dead physically but mentally he was drained. To Sherlock it was just as though he was be absent from Johns life for a while. He would speak to John but his voice did not reach him. He had gone so long without seeing Johns face. These things filled Sherlocks soul. John emerged from everything, he was Sherlocks heart and soul.
"I need to go to him...he needs me" Sherlock said standing infront of the window, watching as the world went about its buisness. " I need to see him. He must know i'm alive" he said tapping his bottom lip with worry.
"Sherlock, I'm telling you its far too soon. Its only been a year. And we've yet to catch all of Moriarty's men" Mycroft spoke trying to reason with Sherlock. He sat on a chair legs crossed, hands on his lap, examining Sherlock. "Besides, Johns already met someone by the name of Jessica. Shes a nice girl. I assume he's moved on Sherlock. You've caused him such great pain."
Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but ended up closing it again. His heart sunk and tears were threating to come down, he had to turn away form Mycroft. He didnt know why and hated how weak he became when it came to John. "Go" he said putting his hands in his pockets. "Get out! i need to be alone" He just wanted John. But John was distant and full of sorrow. This couldnt be it, he needed to see John he wanted atleast one real word from him, one smile, one kiss. That would be enough, then he'd be happy. Happy that it wasnt true. He wanted all of John and needed to explain what had really happened, that it was for him, that he...loved him. Sherlock closed his eyes and wished for one thing. He wished for John. For Johns blue eyes, for Johns intoxicating scent. Johns warmness and joy. Johns smile and his sandy blonde hair. He wanted all of John. Sherlock laughed at himself for being so stupid to believe that maybe once he woudl be able some happiness. But hope. Hope was the worst of them all.
His fall had damaged John to a degree he never thought would happen. He had broken him. But Sherlock wanted to make it up to John. to mend him, and heal him...to return to him. He didnt want to go on watching John as he lived, and went on suffering. Sherlock felt then he would truly die.
I hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will be better, i promise! this is my first story so spare me, but soon there will be lots of smut and fluff and lots of feels and ahhh just everything.
PLEASE REVIEW! i need to know if you like it in order to keep the story going. thanks! 3
