John looked at the clock and sighed. It's only been 5 minutes since he last checked but it seemed like an age. The day had been slow, but every day has been slow. The last months have felt like years. He only had 15 minutes left of his shift. He wasn't expecting any more patients but you never know. Someone could come along. Someone could delay his return to his one room apartment.
He hated going back there. He was alone. He had no one. He had tried staying in the flat, staying at home. He had Mrs Hudson for company there. But it wasn't the same. There weren't any toes in the fridge or someone yelling at the bad TV soaps. It wasn't home anymore. It was empty. And when he had started talking to the skull on the mantelpiece he knew he couldn't bear it anymore. He moved out. At first he had gone to live with Harry, but although she was supportive, she didn't get it. She didn't get that distracting himself from the pain was the key to survival. She just thought it was unhealthy. He could tell she didn't believe him anyway. He also knew enough to deduce that she had gone back to old habits anyway. So he moved into a one room apartment. He went back to his job as a GP. He went back to normal life. People thought he had moved on.
But John knew better. He saw him everywhere. He saw a flick of his coat turning a corner. He saw him in a crowded street. He at first he believed it was him. One more miracle. But he realised what it was. It was his imagination. It was his new psychosomatic limp. He started to ignore it. He was going crazy.
There was a soft knock on the door of john's office that dragged him out of his thoughts. Martha poked her head around the door. She was new, only working here for the last month. She gave john a small smile.
"You ok?" she asked
"Yeah" john said putting a fake smile on his face. He was getting good at this, keeping up appearances. No one really questioned it anymore. Martha came in and sat down on the chair opposite him.
"I know you aren't." she sighed and looked John in the eye, "I know that you wonder how life can go on. I know you are being strong because you don't want people to think something is wrong. I know that behind the mask you are crumbling. You aren't ok. I know how it feels." She glanced down at the floor, "and I know it feels like no one can know how it feels. No one can understand. But I can."
John panicked. He didn't want to talk about this. He had even stopped seeing his physiatrist to avoid talking about this. He couldn't talk about this!
"I lost my fiancée a few years back." Martha continued, her gaze fixed on her feet. "It hurt, it still hurts and when I think of him it feels like my whole body is being ripped to shreds. But I have to face it. You have to face it too john. I learnt the hard way that if you pretend it never happened, it destroys you. Don't make the same mistake."
John looked at her. She had tears brimming in her eyes. He could see the pain she had went through. She understood him. And john understood her.
"He wasn't my boyfriend." John said. Martha looked at him confused.
"Really?"
"Yeah, we were just friends"
The change was slow but he noticed it. John seemed to hold himself differently. One day he even saw a smile. A genuine smile! A small one but still, he was getting better. He was moving on. Although he hated to admit it, Mycroft was right. All john needed was a little push. All john needed was someone to understand. He had chosen Martha even though she didn't know it. She was kind, compassionate, selfless and most importantly she had experienced death of a loved one. She was perfect. She was the one john needed. The one john deserved. He watched them grow close. From afar of course and when they fell in love he knew he had to leave John alone. He had the life he deserved. He wasn't going to disrupt it any longer. The last time he went to see him, when he went to say goodbye, it nearly tore him in two.
John saw him. John had seen him before many times. When he had observed him from too close John always seemed to see him. It was like John was looking for him. At first hope would fill John's face and it was all he could do not to comfort him. Later John just looked at him sadly when he saw him, not believing he was real. He could bear this only because it meant he was getting better. But this was far worse.
John looked straight through him. It was as though he wasn't there. John's gaze just past him by. For the first time Sherlock really had to fight to stop himself from running over to john. John had moved on. Sherlock realised he hadn't. Sherlock realised he couldn't. However much john deserved a normal life with Martha, Sherlock knew he couldn't live without John. He realised how much he had depended on him. He hadn't missed John that much because he still saw him. He still talked to him sometimes when he was thinking. But to lose him completely, to never see him again, was something Sherlock couldn't bear. It was something Sherlock couldn't do.
He had to tell john he was alive.