Watson stared lifelessly at the arm chair where his dear friend, Sherlock Holmes, would have once sat. It had been three long years since Sherlock had sat in that chair. He still remembered vividly, the day he had seen his friend jump off a building.
John shook the memory away, taking another long gulp of his fifth glass of whiskey. Angry with himself for turning to drink he got up and walked into the kitchen. The whole house seemed empty now, but the fridge was possibly the emptiest place. Opening it he took out the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Sipping it John was reminded once again of his pain, he threw the glass across the room before breaking down in a fit of tears.
Sherlock heard the crash of glass at the bottom step of his old flat. He winced sharply, he had been checking up on his old friend via Molly or Mycroft. The news was never good. He knew that John had been drinking excessively and also knew that by this time he would be very drunk. Sighing with despair he made his way up the steps to the flat.
When he got nearer, he heard the crying. Feeling guilty he opened the door to discover John was in the kitchen. Moving silently across the room he sat in his usual chair.
They sat like that for a long while. John, so immersed in his pain that he had no idea his thought to be long-since dead friend was sitting right behind him. He was on his knees, curled up in a ball, crying so hard it hurt. And Sherlock, one leg crossed over the the other, thumb in his mouth, studying his friend intently. It was only when John's tears subsided that he remembered the glass. Swearing softly, he clumsily crawled over to the shattered remains of the glass. He picked up the pieces slowly, his vision blurred. Then standing, almost tripping over his own feet he threw the glass pieces in the bin. Slowly, he raised his head to look in the window. What he saw there shook him to the core. In the reflection of the window he saw his friend sitting there, looking at him. Closing his eyes, he leaned on the counter. Determined to believe it was his drunken imagination playing cruel tricks on him. After a while he raised his head. Sherlock was still sitting there, this time a more concerned look plastered all over his face. John turned around. True to his eyes, he saw Sherlock sitting there.
"Sh..Sherlock?" He muttered before fainting and crumbling to the ground.
Sherlock jumped up as soon as he realized his friend was going to fall. He didn't catch him but he lifted John's heavy body over to the sofa. Laying him down he checked his head for any sign of ingury. When he found none he moved back to his armchair and sat down thinking. He knew Molly would be worried. she always did worry. He pulled out his phone and text her quickly. 'At 221B, Hurry Up. SH' Then putting his phone back he thought some more.
It was 10 minutes before Molly arrived. She let herself in an immediately stopped when she saw John on the sofa. Pointing and opening her mouth to speak, she was cut off immediately by Sherlock. Without even looking at her or John he bit his lip.
"Yes fainted, either from shock or drink. Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" He asked her looking up. Tears were forming in his eyes and one accidentally escaped before he could turn away.
"Sherlock, I-" Molly began looking at him and feeling guilty.
"Save your breath!" Sherlock said wiping away his tears and standing up. "I'm going to talk to Mycroft. Look after him for me. Make sure her doesn't touch any alcohol. Oh and tell Mrs. Hudson there is glass and whiskey over in that corner!" He told her walking towards the door and pointing at where John had collapsed. With that he was gone.
Molly, having lived with Sherlock for the last 3 years, followed his instructions precisely. Before John woke up she text him. 'What do I tell him? Molly' She sent the text and walked into the kitchen to tidy the mess away herself. 'The truth. SH' came Sherlock's reply seconds later. She nodded to herself and carried on cleaning.
"You don't have to do that!" came John's hoarse voice from the living room. Molly jumped and looked at John smiling.
"It was no trouble!" She said picking up the glass from the floor. It had been less than 5 minutes since she had started cleaning.
"I shouldn't have thrown it." Came John's reply.
"Well-" Molly who had been cut off twice that day looked up at him, surprised.
"I saw Sherlock today Molly. I collapsed, but i saw him." John said sobbing and looking down at his hands.
Molly put the cleaning equipment away and walked over to John.
"John i-" She said but was interrupted by the door opening and Sherlock walking in.
John stared at his friend, then got up and punched him square in the jaw. It was a strong punch and knocked Sherlock to the ground.
Amazed by John's reaction Sherlock got up and stared at John.
"John that was not unnecessary!" He said looking at Molly who was staring at them, mouth open wide.
"Oh, yes it was necessary! I thought you were dead for 3 years! You prat!" John shouted turning around fuming.
"I see you've sobered up!" stated Sherlock looking at him and sitting in his chair.
"Yes - I, look Sherlock, i fail to see how my drinking effects you!" Said John standing in front of him.
"You concerned me John, I was worried about you!" Sherlock said plainly leaning back and crossing over his legs.
"Molly, how, why?" Stuttered John. confused as to why she seemed so uneffected.
"She helped. I've been living with her since!" siad Sherlock looking at him then at Molly.
"You knew?" John asked Molly. Not looking at Sherlock for fearing he was going to cry again.