Warm , and comfy which was the chair you were sitting on. You brushed away your (color hair) off your shoulders and sigh. Sighing was mostly all that was ever done in this house. In your hands which was a book that you had bought before Sherlock died. After his death you couldn't bear to look at it and opening it's soft binding. But of course you didn't want John to know that. So you sat there with a staring into space. Tea brew in a pot which was your favorite. Steam which you could see from your chair, but you did nothing. Across from you was John, his arm popped up to his face. Blood rushed to the skin, and already made marks so there was no point to remove it
"_, could you get that please"
he muttered as he buried his face into his hands. You stare at John with a worried expression but got up to get the tea anyways. Pouring the tea on the white shiny cup made you think about him after his death. John would barely say anything to you since Sherlock died. John was like a big brother to you, and Sherlock was was like that too. They were your friends, no family as you could say it. A sharp pain entered your forearm. A sudden pain made your cup fall to the floor and shatter the floor.
"Damn it" you muttered. As it made a loud sound you were expecting John to run in the room asking what was happen. But silent filled the air which so sudden moves but your breathing. You shook your head as started to pick up the broken pieces.
"He is more broken, than this cup' you mumurmed.
❄❄❄
As soon as you were done you walked out patting your skirt. It was reached all the way to your knees. You realized pants wouldn't work till it slowed down your perfect running skills. Not that you were ever girly anyways. But running and punching people was your job. Not that you weren't smart, you were as smart as Sherlock. Just you were too lazy to think. But of course you could deduce, just to lazy.
As soon as you entered the room which was famous nowadays. John sat there staring at a picture. Inside was a picture of younger Sherlock scowling and you grinning as you tightly hugged him. In the back was a bigger kid with a huge coat and his arm crossed. Which was at least 10 years older than both of the kids in front. A small smile came to your lips as you sat back in place before.
"You know," he started as he scratched his blond soft short hair. "I didn't know that you and Sherlock were friends for this long." he questioned not moving his eyes from the picture.
"But of course, we been friends since we were 10 years old." you remarked setting your legs on the armchair while your back against the other. "Well, were anyways" you lowered your tone enough for you to hear.
"Who was that other kid in the picture?" he asked waving it in the air. You merely smiled and closed your eyes.
"I know this is hard to believe, but that Greg Lestrade." you laughed.