AN: Hello to all! ^_^ This is my first ever Sherlock fic, and I really worked hard on this and tried my absolute best, so please be nice, thanks! Now, on with the fic! XD (May be a few errors)
OneShot - Someone Like You
Disclaimer – I don't own Sherlock, but I do own the plot of this fic! :)
Rating – T
Pairing – Sherlock x John
Words – 1,304?
Summary – John could never forget Sherlock Holmes, no matter how hard he tries to run away from that horrid past. But, will the past soon reunite with him?
WARNING – If you don't like Yaoi fluff – leave NOW!
In counting, three years. Those difficult and highly depressing three years of John Watson, who was once the colleague of the famous Sherlock Holmes. Something's have never really been apparent for John after the first three months of the suicide of the detective. John had wished hard for those first few weeks that Sherlock would just appear out of thin air, returning as John flat mate; alive and unharmed or even better, not dead. But, it was never granted.
John had lost all hope and trust in the detective to gratefully return and having a merry reunion. John will always remember those pleading and demanding words that he sobbed aloud in front of Sherlock's grave, 'stop being dead... please... for me... just one more miracle...' Its wasn't very pleasant at all, not in the least. Having to lose a partner...a friend was downright impossible to even bare. But, to have also witness them die right in front of your eyes, in a picture perfect view, was heartbreaking.
Seeing Sherlock dead on the solid cement sidewalk - his beautiful and stunning face being consumed by his cascaded red blood, also dirtying and sticking to his dark brown curls - it made John speechless and agape. He ran to Sherlock fresh corpse but was accidentally run down by a biycicleman. Picking himself up with a struggle he then proceeded to come toward Sherlock, he could hardly recognize him, he attempted to let himself through, stating he was a doctor. John gently reached for his friend wrist, surely hoping to feel something, a pulse, anything! Alas, nothing...
Nothing was responsive or even active. John was in too much of a shock he could hardly speak, anything that processed out his mouth was complete and total gibberish. It's like he has suddenly forgotten how to talk, how to even think! On that day, everything had seem to close in on John and collapse onto him, serving no pity what's so ever.
When John and Ms. Hudson visited Sherlock's grave he told her he wouldn't be able to go back to the flat anymore, and he absolutely meant it. After the visit he returned back to his small comfortless apartment where he once lived before the coming of Sherlock. That's where John has currently been living at during these three years. He still kept his job at the hospital with Sarah. John has been rigid lately. Mostly to start, drinking cups of coffee other than the regularly standard tea and water. In fact, his figure has become slim, much weight lost over the course of a year; slightly unhealthy as well. You would think someone would stop caring about his frame and grow overweight and start to become and abusive alcoholic. But not John, he just ate less and started to lose his signature tan from the war and gradually become more pale the less time he spent outside his apartment flate.
Sarah did of course notice and refused to do nothing about it. She would try to make John eat and develop some sort of stirring enthusiasm but wasn't overall successful. She thought he wouldn't return to his devotion and eagerness self like he once was with the detective. During the winter of the second year Sherlock death John refused to show up to Sherlock grave. John had a strange desire to take his hidden revolver and...Place it carefully and gently to his temple. He was unconditionally determined to pull the trigger. Then, he heard it...a quick, simple sound of a violin. Lowering his gun slightly downward for just a moment, John began to form violent tears to his eyes. It stung badly - like acid - but he rapidly forced them away and resumed his previous action. John embraced his destiny and was quite frustrated to end it soon.
At any rate, he placed his shaky, sweaty finger to the trigger and began to pull...a violin! There, again, he heard it but it lingered about much longer. John dropped he gun ruthlessly and painfully grasped his hands, burying it among his hands and bent down, sobbing. He had just about had it with his past vividly tormenting him every night in his nightmares. John remained in his position for about two hours. Since then, he's never heard that wonderful violin sing.
Forgetting the past was a difficult task for John, he tried to date Sarah again, but it didn't turn out to well. John attempted to try dating other women and utterly failed. Life didn't seem so simple much anymore; all he thought about was Sherlock. John kept all his emotions inside and casually built it up till the point where he thought of Sherlock in a different sort of manner. And, it bothered him very often - did he love Sherlock, or was he to damned discouraged and felt guilty within him? Though, he rarely ever thought that when Sherlock was around - he did now. He missed his dear detective with such intense despair. John would have blocked the rubbish idea of love, but that wasn't about to happen. The idea bothered him so; on occasion he would accidently write Sherlock name on a hospital forum. He was timidly abashed about his odd new ordeal. John knew he was such an incompetence man from time to time, Sarah however did notice this peculiar turmoil and gradually began to allow it to come about. She actually thought it was already quite obvious that they gave people the impression of affection toward one another; she knew intentionally he ought to figure it out someday.
John never noticed himself taken an interest in Sherlock. He's never taken the slightest remark to the younger man. John knew what he is, knew himself better than anyone else, he knew he was straight. At least, within recent post, it could have just been an insignificant sign of culpability. But, John was rather confused at that.
6 months later...
It wasn't such a jolly little Christmas Eve. Sarah was away visiting her family for the holidays. Sarah and John are not together but just friends, the only person who rationalized with John to some extent. John sat at Al's, the place where Sherlock cleared that man's name, just a little but he ended up in jail. John sat at the exact table they had during A Study in Pink case. It was at least a few minutes till eleven o clock and John was relaxing and sipping his fourth cup of coffee. Al let him stay a little after closing hours, he didn't mind in the least. Al knew John has gone through a rough patch after Sherlock death, pitying the poor John for his boyfriend.
Al delicately walked toward John's table and spoke. "Oi, John, don't you think you should be headin' on home?"
John blinked his tired eyes awake and looked up to Al, nodding. "Just thought I should stay a bit longer." Al shook his head and departed.
Sighing heavily, John took a final sip of his now cold coffee and placed it down on its clean saucer. The feelings for Sherlock have not vanished yet, it has only gotten stronger in the past months. It was such a hassle to keep this inside him, always taunting him! John was about ready to go, he picked up his coat and was about to get up and retire for the night. John didn't hear the door opening and someone entering softly and quietly. Looking up, John noticed the tall stranger. He didn't move and instead stared intently at him. John's droopy eyes lit up brightly; profoundly astounded.
John chuckled to the unknown man in front of him. A small tear falling from his relieved eyes. The man in Johns view proceeded to come closer and embrace his colleague.
"You're such a bloody dick, Sherlock!"
"I missed you as well, John."
Sherlock Holmes...has returned.
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Tada! How was it? If you liked it or saw some errors around dont hesitate to review down below, thanks a please review! ^_^