Please Don't be dead!

by John Nygma

Now it is 4 years ago that Sherlock jumped of the roof of the hospital. And John is still thinking about his friend every minute, even often imagines that Sherlock is still alive... But John needs this pain to keep going, because it just doesn't work without Sherlock...

1. Chapter 1

Please… Don't be dead."

How often did those thoughts fly around in John's head? They were everywhere followed by one picture: a falling Sherlock who landed on the ground with a horrible splashing sound before the hospital. Not moving, not blinking, the damaged head gave the ground a deep red colour. For weeks, months, years John was not able to sleep well, he was haunted by those pictures, led him no time to rest. His therapist had said that he would calm down with the time when he got used to Sherlock's absence and would have moved out of their flat.

But John had not followed those advises, not the first and not the second one.

One could not get used to the absence of Sherlock Holmes when you already knew him. Only this striking face had made an impression on John the first time he had seen it. Dark curly hair on a thin, pale face with those high cheekbones. The slim body, dressed in a black suit with a dark shirt without a tie; Sherlock never liked ties. This rich deep voice in which was still somewhere the sound of warmth. Most of the time it was insultingly, sarcastically or analysing something but it also could give consolation or fun, if the owner wanted this. Oh, how much John missed it to hear this voice that told him that he was an idiot although practically everyone is. But his ears had not heard this voice for four years now, nobody had heard it. Not Mrs. Hudson, not Lestrade, not Mycroft…

To move out of 221B Baker Street was for John an impossible thing to do. He had tried, he had lived in another flat for a few months but that had not worked. John simply needed his old flat he had the feeling that when he was going into it through the house door he would hear at any moment the sound of a violin or the shots of a gun. John had set his heart on that flat there were so many things that reminded him of Sherlock and he needed that. It just did not work without 221B. He also had forbidden Mrs. Hudson to take away Sherlock's stuff. At first he had agreed to give all those things to a school but when Mrs. Hudson had come with the boxes he had strongly strived against that. John just would not let it happen that she took the microscope, the burner or the chemicals. What if Sherlock suddenly needed them again?