Author's Note: This fanfic is set after The Reichenbach Falls and is all going to be written from John's perspective. Sorry not much happens in this chapter but I really wanted to get into John's character. I promise there will be more plot in future chapters. I hope you enjoy! :D Please review!

Thank you to my wonderful beta Princess FunkWalk for giving me the idea! You should all go check her out! :D

Cover picture is by elocinaqui on deviantart so please check her out! ^_^

"There's something you wanted to say, and didn't say it." It wasn't a question. John couldn't work out why this statement had made him think so much – Ella had made assumptions like this before but this one was different somehow. It had been over a month and the comment was still constantly on his mind. She was almost always right, though not with the same fascinating consistency as Sherlock... John suddenly found himself missing Sherlock; the way he revelled in an almost childlike manner with interesting cases, the way he could sit in his chair opposite John's for hours, the way he sometimes looked at John...

This thought brought John back to the real world-ish. Nothing had seemed real since 'The Fall'. John had simply drifted along, declining any help offered to him, even Lestrade's offer of a place to stay. He especially declined Mycroft's invitation to meet at the Diogenes Club. Although it was probably irrational, John still partly blamed Mycroft for Sherlock's death. He refused to believe that the so-called Ice Man was so cold as to knowingly destroy his own brother's career and therefore life. This was where the problem lay, though. Although Mycroft may not have done any of this knowingly, he did massively contribute to Sherlock's death.

John did not believe for one minute that his dearest friend was a fraud, but he had somewhat resigned himself to the fact that Sherlock was never coming back. He had visited the grave a few times but it had brought back too many painful memories. Also, John often got the feeling that he was being watched when he visited, which made him feel very uncomfortable. He tended to avoid the cemetery as much as possible, as he was definitely one to trust his instincts, a quality which had come in very handy in Afghanistan all those months ago. Thinking of the war brought back the all too familiar twinge in his leg; John's limp had returned after Sherlock's death. Ella had said it was now simply an issue of mind over matter – they both knew that the limp was psychosomatic – but it wasn't as easy as that. John was a determined man, though, so he was planning on fighting the hobble every step of the way, literally! In an attempt to get on with his new life, John had thrown himself into his work. He was there all day, often spending evenings doing extra work and only leaving late at night. Eventually, it became so much that Sarah had to stop paying John overtime – the hospital couldn't afford to pay him to work from 8am until 10pm!

Suddenly, John found himself outside St Bart's hospital, phone in hand, watching helplessly as his best friend threw himself off the towering building. He felt utterly powerless and could do nothing but stare at the plunging figure, wishing this was a dream but knowing it was all too real. Time seemed to slow down and John felt fear and terror rip through him; he knew that any second now his best friend, his only true friend, would be gone from his life. After what seemed like an eternity of dread, Sherlock hit the floor. John felt the force of the impact shudder through his own body and started running towards his dearest companion, colleague and partner. When he reached the body (after a brief encounter with a stupid man on a bike) John's heart sank. Sherlock was very much dead.

John came back to reality abruptly, feeling sick to his stomach. He forced himself to think back to that fateful day. When John had tried to find a pulse, he had thought he felt a movement in his best friend's wrist, but was pushed away before he could be sure. He had since then dismissed the faint beat as wishful thinking. He struggled to think about that awful day and there was no point in holding out false hope – Sherlock had been pronounced dead, the funeral had been held, he was never coming back. All this thinking of Sherlock also brought back memories of Mrs Hudson. John had barely spoken to her since The Incident; he couldn't bear the idea of going to the flat, and was struggling to find the motivation to meet at any nearby cafés. Ella had encouraged him to talk to Mrs Hudson about their memories of Sherlock, though. John pulled himself together, called the older woman, and got ready to catch a taxi to the agreed café.

Ten minutes later, John found himself recalling the countless times he had hailed cabs that Sherlock had taken 'to think'. The thought lingered in his mind until John could swear he could smell Sherlock's aftershave. He dismissed the idea from his mind and, still slightly reeling from his vivid flashback, paid the driver and went into the café. Greeting Mrs Hudson, John was preparing himself for the barrage of tears that he thought would be inevitable; Mrs Hudson was a strong woman, but they had hardly spoken since Sherlock's funeral. John rarely went back to 221B and, when he did, it was late at night when he knew he wouldn't have to talk to her. It wasn't that John meant to be mean, but he didn't feel that he could cope with more reminders of his most cherished friend. Expecting the worst, John sat down. "Hi, Mrs Hudson, how are you holding up?"

"I've been better, dear, but there's not much point in dwelling on the past! I ordered tea for you, I hope that's okay." She replied. John was shocked – he had expected a much more emotional response! He barely managed to nod his head, but forced himself to swallow down his surprise and was about to mumble something when Mrs Hudson moved in and spoke again, quietly. "You'll be okay, John." He was going to argue when he thought he saw a familiar looking man walk into the café. A tall, pale, familiar looking man with dark curly hair. Then the guy turned around.

It was Sherlock.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this, please review it - I love reviews! :D