Hi everyone! I got an idea from a Tumblr gifset I saw, and just had to write this. It's a little angsty, maybe, but it's my first one-shot like this, so I hope you like it! Please review and tell me what you think!
It was over a year since Sherlock Holmes died, and John Watson still had a little hope that maybe, maybe his best friend hadn't really died. But of course, that would be silly, wouldn't it? He had seen Sherlock fall down from the roof of the hospital himself, and there was no way his body, lying on the ground full of blood, could have been fake. Since that day, since Sherlock's funeral, John had been like a soulless body. The first few weeks he would just sit in the flat and stare and do nothing, until Mrs. Hudson had tried to help him do something with his life. She knew that it wouldn't help to do nothing, and it was probably not what Sherlock would have wanted.
Even though he knew that Sherlock was dead, John never stopped hoping. He would never stop hoping until the day he died.
But today, as he was making his way through the London-Heathrow airport, John was not thinking about Sherlock. For once he was busy, trying to reach a plane. He needed a while away from everything, so he was going out of the country.
Then he saw him. John saw the incredibly smart sociopath with the curly black hair and the cheekbones and the coat looking at him across the big room. He knew it was Sherlock. He was definitely not mistaken. 'I knew it,' he thought as he tried to get across the room and meet his friend. 'I knew he was alive!'
Unfortunately, many people were in his way. Being British, he should have been more polite, but he wanted to get there as quick as possible. John ignored the angry looks he got from people by pushing them away, with one man in sight.
A man who had just turned around. Sherlock wasn't facing him anymore, but had his back turned to him. Didn't he want to talk to him? Maybe he was just waiting for him. John kept making his way through the room.
The room seemed incredibly huge now that there was such a big gap between John and his friend, but he would get there.
And he did. Finally, there were just a few more steps to that man with the curly hair...but then the man turned around.
It wasn't Sherlock. It was not Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the world and John Watson's best friend.. It was someone completely else, someone John didn't know. He wasn't even interested in getting to know him.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" asked the man, more or less politely. It just made him look even less like Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't polite. He was rude and annoying and brilliant at the same time. John couldn't understand how he had mistaken this man for his friend.
"No, sorry, I thought you were someone else," John murmured and turned to walk away.
He knew he had seen Sherlock. It might have been a hallucination, and the man he had fought his way over to might not have been Sherlock, but he had seen him. He had definitely seen him.
Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes stood by the airport exit observing John Watson, his best friend. Never approaching, only observing as John went onto the plane and flew away.