Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat. Today was the big day. The day they go through Sherlock's things and decide what to donate, what to keep and what to throw out. It's been a month since the accident. John, the poor soul, hasn't been well at all. She stared in horror at the state of the apartment. It was dirty and, frankly, gross.
"Well, I'll start with the kitchen," she said to herself. And, with a sigh, she began with the dishes. John was usually quick with his dishes; doing them every night so there was enough for the next day. The frail hands work quickly and expertly over each cup, mug and tupperware, washing and placing them in the drying rack. Time wore on through the silent morning. After the dishes, Mrs. Hudson moved on to the table. Careful to not touch any of Sherlock's old tools (John freaked out last time with swearing and screaming), She cleared more tupperware from Harry's kitchen into the sink and threw away the newspapers from the last week, discussing Sherlock's downfall and jump…. All rubbish, she knew. After most of the table was cleared, she went to the living room, picking up clothes, pillows and random scrapes of John's now wasted life. After a quick dusting, She checked the time. Noon. Harriet would be calling soon and very upset if she knew he was still sleeping at this hour again. She put on a pot of coffee and walked down the hall.
The old woman slowly opened the door to see Captain and Doctor John Watson asleep with a beard almost fully developed lying on the old, well-used bed of Sherlock Holmes. When Harry first inquired why he chose to sleep there he snapped back "It's my flat, that's the master bedroom, why shouldn't I?" But when she dug farther, like why he kept everything the same (including the periodic table) he got very quiet very quickly.
"John? John, dear, your sister will be calling any moment. Do you think you should wake up bit? I've got coffee on."
He groaned and lifted his head slightly, "Harry can go to hell, drink the coffee yourself."
Mrs. Hudson gasped at his rudeness and closed the door. She tried her best not to be offended, he was depressed after all, but it was so difficult to tolerate him wasting away like this. She soon heard footsteps coming closer to the door. John opened the door to see her standing in front of him. He simply leaned his head on her shoulder and stood there, "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that, neither did Harry."
"Oh, that's alright, John, come on the coffee's probably ready by now." She led him carefully down the hallway and sat him at the table. She then proceeded to make eggs and toast for the poor man. They had very little conversation as he ate for the first time in a week, and even less when he finished. He walked to Sherlock's chair and sat down to do his usual all day long wall staring. Only moments later, the downstairs phone rang.
Mrs. Hudson jumped up to answer it and didn't come back up for a while. John didn't mind the loneliness. He just sat and waited until it was time to sleep again. The love of his life (yes, he can admit it now, if only to himself) jumped off of a building after telling him horrible lies. He just didn't get it. Why? What did Moriarty do? Investigation proved he shot himself in the head…. So why did Sherlock jump if he won? Was it John? Did he do something? Did he mess up somehow and kill his best friend, his one and only love? He just didn't get it. His brain isn't as magnificent as Sherlock's had been. Why?
Mrs. Hudson came back up holding her wireless house phone, "Dear, it's Harriet. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Why?" He asked absently.
"Oh, stop asking that! We have no idea why he did it, but you don't see me walking around all upset like that! Please, John, just talk to your sister!"
He simply got up and walked out of the room, down the hallway, and into his/Sherlock's bedroom. When the door slammed, Mrs. Hudson picked the phone back up and apologized for John's rude behavior. They talked for a long while about John and what they should do. Harry said she would come if she didn't have work. She was on the verge of losing her job as it is. Mrs. Hudson told her it was fine and said, believe it or not, that John was getting better slowly.
When she hung up with Harry, she crept up the room. He opened the door before she could knock. His beard was gone. But his clothes were the same and he still hadn't taken a shower yet. Baby steps. "John, we agreed today… I think it's time, don't you?"
"Not today." John didn't at the woman just walked past her into the kitchen.
"But, look at this place! Look at yourself! You will feel batter after it, I promise."
"Please don't make me do this today." He turned around so that she could see the sadness and pleading in his eyes.
"Fine well, at least we should look into getting you a job."
"No need. My blog has more readers than ever. I'm getting paid to not shut down the site."
"Hun, you need a job not just for the money but for social reasons. You can't expect to be cooped up in this house for the rest of your life."
"Why not? I've got you and Harry. If they come and arrest me for sitting in my own home so be it."
"Please, for me. Just take a walk, get out of the house."
"I'll go out when I'm good and ready and not a second sooner. Now, please leave me alone so that I can think in peace." He sat back down in Sherlock's chair and stared at the wall until Mrs. Hudson turned on the telly and left the flat.
He'll come down and out when he is ready. She trusted him. She loved him. She missed him. She also missed Sherlock. She often found herself thinking why. Will be okay in time, she knew it.
Sherlock watched John sit, just as he has watched him sit for a month now. God love Mrs. Hudson for trying but he is too stubborn to follow any rules but his own. He'll be fine.
He put the cameras in the flat during the ceremony and was able to be back by the time John talked to his grave. John hasn't left the house since.
He felt guilty, very guilty. Turning a man like John Watson in that sulking blob of self-loathing was a hard thing to do. This wasn't how he planned it. John was supposed to move on, get a job, get yet another girlfriend and stop thinking about him altogether. This was not how it was supposed to happen. There's nothing he could do now. Just sit and wait for John to move on. He promised himself once John moved on, so will he. Why was it so impossible for either of them to do it.
Sherlock sighed and turned the monitor off. They need to forget about each other. They need to start over. For their own good, Sherlock Holmes will never look at John Watson again.
"Good luck, dear friend, my love. Please don't let me control your life even after my death. My dear Watson, please move on."