Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.
A/N: I will be writing more chapters soon! Enjoy!
John sighed. Three years. Three years since his best friend died. The pain still hadn't gone away. Every second of every day John wished Sherlock was still alive, was still with him at 221B Baker Street. Part of John wondered if Sherlock was still alive but if he was still alive why would he make John think that he was dead? John sat up in his bed and pulled the covers off him. He saw Sherlock's death again last night. It still hurt every single time he remembered. "JOHNN!" He could hear Mrs Hudson calling. "We're out of milk, mind popping out to get some?" She continued. "Sure." John shouted back. He wanted to get out, distract himself.
His mind was full of thoughts, hopes, dreams, emotions and he couldn't properly focus on any one thing. He had lost friends before but he hadn't missed them this much, for this long. John turned and walked straight out into the road unaware of an impending bus travelling rapidly towards him suddenly John could feel him being pushed over, he could feel arms around him and something else, something soft, something feathery. The bus went past its horn blaring. People surrounded John looking at him in awe and amazement. The person who had saved him had gone as soon as they had pushed John over. Who was it?! He wanted to thank them!
Suddenly someone came up behind him whispered "time to go" and put their arms around Johns waist and before he knew it John was back in 221B Baker Street. John turned, wanting to see who had done this. There he saw him. But not as John had remembered him.
"YOU. HAVE. WINGS?!" John shouted a look of despair and confusion filled Johns face.
Sherlock shrugged and looked at his large black wings. "Er. Yeah." Silence filled the room, John was still staring at Sherlock in amazement.
"Was it you?" John finally asked. "Did you save my life?" John voice sounded agitated and exasperated. "Yes." Sherlock replied modestly.
"Thanks." John muttered.
"No problem." Sherlock looked at the ground, "I didn't think it was time for you to join me yet, you know, up there." Sherlock pointed upwards.
"So, you're dead? Are you an angel or something?"
"Apparently so, apparently I was wrong."
"Wouldn't be the first time." John's voice again had the sharp, angry tone that scared Sherlock.
"What do you mean?" Sherlock looked genuinely hurt by John's words.
"Why didn't you just let me die? I want to be with you!" John's face become gentler, but tears formed in his eyes, "I hate being without you, I am so alone."
"I'm sorry but I had to, Moriarty-" Sherlock started.
"DON'T YOU DARE... blame him! This was you; this was all you being selfish. You didn't have to kill yourself. You didn't have to do ANYTHING. You just wanted to because you were bored, you were bored and you wanted to boost your own FUCKING EGO. You wanted to make everyone think you were amazing, so perfect well you AREN'T! YOU ARE A SELFISH ARRAGANT PSYCHOPATH THAT NO ONE NEEDS. NO ONE NEEDS YOU WRECKING THIER LIVES ANY MORE SHERLOCK HOLMES. SO JUST GO AWAY!" Sherlock flinched and stepped away from John, his words felt like a punch to the stomach.
He held his head in shame as John put his own head in his hands.
"Sherlock I-" John couldn't finish that sentence, what he said was true, John didn't need him but he wanted him.
"No, it's fine. All you said is true." Sherlock couldn't tell John the truth, make John feel guilty for his death.
John shook his head feebly. "Don't go," John quietly pleaded.
DING.
John got his phone out and opened up the new message.
Saw your wings today in town Sherlock, you should see my horns-
JM.x.
