So...my creative writing teacher says I overvisualize and too much of it ends up on paper. I've only had him for a few days and don't really trust him yet, so I'd like a second opinion from you all. All constructive criticism is appreciated.
Edit: I fixed a couple typos/grammar issues that I'm blaming on typos. Thanks to Jenn for pointing them out! And thanks to the rest of you for reading/reviewing.
The first time he saw it, he had to do a double take. The flyer pinned to the board had Sherlock's picture (John's mouth twitched into a small smile—he was wearing that deerstalker hat) and the sentence "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." He stood there and stared at his friend's portrait for a few minutes. Then he shook his head and kept walking.
The second time, he walked right past it. Then he walked backwards to stop in front of it. In large red letters on the gray brick side of a building, it said, "I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES."
A smaller flyer was left attached to his door knocker. This one had a picture of the evil mastermind himself, "Moriarty is real" stamped over his eyes with the other phrase in tiny print in the bottom-right corner.
He even froze once while crossing the street when he saw huge chalk letters covering the width of the road, declaring in all capital letters their belief in Sherlock. The headlights behind him made the white letters glow before the driver honked at him.
Before too long, it was everywhere: walls, doors, cars, signs. Soon, Greg and Molly were snapping pictures of it with their phones and texting them to John. People were wearing pins and shirts and carried bags and notebooks. A sticker sheet was once left amidst all the other memorabilia left at 221b Baker St.
As strange as it was at first, it became so normal (and really, he should have expected it, because Sherlock certainly deserved it) that he paid little attention. He didn't need to read it every time. He'd smile, but that was all the acknowledgement he'd give it.
So he didn't understand why, after a couple of beers with Lestrade, his friend hit his arm with the back of his hand.
"John…"
"What?"
Bright yellow paint, reflecting the light from the street lamps, was spread over the red brick. Another "I believe" statement. He rolled his eyes at Greg.
"Yes. It's wonderful. But we've both seen it a thousand times."
Greg elbowed him, gesturing towards the wall. "No, really. Look."
John turned back to the wall, really taking in the message.
I believe in John Watson.
John stepped back, eyes wide. He blinked a few times. He squinted.
"Is that…" he stammered. "Does that say…"
Greg was grinning. He clapped his friend on the back, nodding in awe. John smiled, his mouth open slightly.
"You don't think…"
He didn't let himself finish the thought aloud. He knew it wasn't possible.
But who else would believe in him that much?