A/N: Hope you guys enjoy, R&R. Trigger warning depression, thoughts/mentions of suicide.
Chapter 1:
I survived the war. But the war is nothing compared to losing my best friend. I watched as Sherlock fell off a building to his death. If only I could've done something, if only I could've saved Sherlock Holmes. Maybe Sherlock didn't want to be saved, but now I don't want to be saved either.
I am alone. I sit staring at the empty chair in front of me. No more experiments destroying the flat. No more violin playing at 2 in the morning. No more bullet holes in the wall and worst of all… no more Sherlock.
I miss him, more than anything. He was my best friend, and I was his. It was just the two of us against the rest the world. The game was on, but now it's over.
Its like the light and joy has walked out of me. I have been left alone by the world. No one can help me. I feel like ending it all, but I know better. I need to carry on, be strong, that's he would've wanted me to do.
Some days are better than others. Some days I find myself holding my gun in my hands wondering why I don't just pull the trigger. Other days it's like he was never in my life. I don't know is worse.
I know I'm descending into the darkness without him. I never realised before that he was keeping it at bay. This was always going to happen, I just never realised. He kept my demons away, and maybe just maybe I kept his away too.
I look towards the stacks of news articles in front of me.
Sherlock Holmes commits suicide
Suicide of fake genius
The truth behind Sherlock Holmes.
So many lies made up by reporters and Moriarty. Sherlock Holmes wasn't a fake, he was a genius. Nobody could have faked that. Why did he tell me he had then? Maybe I'm just in denial, maybe he was a fake.
1 week later...
Time passes so slowly now. I listen as the seconds tick by. Tick tock, tick tock. Sometimes I feel as if the world has left me behind. The world is still turning. The hours are still passing. Tick tock, tick tock.
I'm lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. I can't bear to look anywhere else. Everywhere I look I see him. I just can't seem to let go. I wish I could, but I can't. I will never forget him.
How long has it been since I started staring at the ceiling? Hours? Days? Weeks? I don't know anymore. Time goes on, but I'm not going with it.
I hear my phone ringing, probably just Greg or Mrs Hudson worrying about me. I ignore my phone. It's been untouched since he called me to say goodbye.
I know I've changed. I eat less, don't leave the flat and barely move. No wonder they worry, I'd be worrying about me too.
After I don't even know how long I hear a knock at the door.
"It's open."
The door swings open to reveal Mrs Hudson.
"John, it's been a month. You need to get up and face the world."
I look absentmindedly towards the door. For a second I see him standing in the doorway like he never left. Then I blink, and he's gone. I look back up at the ceiling. Mrs Hudson places a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Please John. You can't stay in here forever."
"I can't leave."
"Can't or won't?"
"I don't know. I just... can't. Everything reminds me of him."
She nodded sympathetically and gave me a sympathetic smile.
"You have to let go sometime. Nothing lasts forever."