THE BLOG OF DR JOHN WATSON
When my councillor told me it would be good to write a blog listing what I did, my instant reaction was, nothing ever happens to me. But that was before I met Sherlock Holmes, Before I moved to 221B baker street, before I became an assistant to the worlds only consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, in ways that some people wouldn't understand, I will stand by my word until the day I die Sherlock Holmes was never fraud.
John looked at what he had written and it felt like a punch in the gut.
It was just another reminder. Sherlock Holmes was dead, John always felt a serge of grief over him whenever he saw a police car or a really trashy TV show even when he saw adds for nicotine patches. Grief seemed to follow him like a shadow. He wasn't sure what his life would be like now. His limp had even started to come back. He just wished there was some way that Sherlock could still be alive. He new it was impossible he had checked the pause himself, the autopsy had even been done, Molly was in a right state, whenever he saw her she just looked sad. It had only been a week but each day without him had been more depressing then the next. When ever the neighbours made a racket he found himself saying "shut up Sherlock" only to remember that Sherlock wasn't there. He found himself looking at the bullet holes that Sherlock had made in the walls when he was bored.
"Just come back Sherlock, for me" John whispered to himself.
He deleted what he had written, he just couldn't hit post.
Sherlock Holmes looked at his new surroundings, it had been a week since he had 'died' and ever since his 'deathday' he had been living in Molly's basement, it smelled suspiciously of rat poison but Molly had ensured him there where no rats. The basement was supposed to be a Granny flat for Molly's…well Granny but she died before she could move in. Sherlock was lying on the bed fiddling with a tennis ball that he had found under the rocking chair in the corner. He herd the front door open and then close above him, Molly was home. Sherlock stretched and ascended up the stair case. Molly was still wearing her Lab coat, she must of court the under ground wearing that, people probably had steered but she probably couldn't care less.
Sherlock saw a packet of chocolate teddy bear cookies. He picked it up and inspected it, "Is this supposes to be a teddy bear? Look at it, it has three arms!"
"Hello Sherlock" molly said "and the third 'arm' is a tail" she said without looking up.
Molly had lived with Sherlock for a week; he was a hard man to live with. She had been flattered when he had asked her to help him, she was the only one who new he was still alive, but his constant demand of nicotine patches and criticising allowed at nearly everything was driving her mad, but she was still in love with Sherlock Holmes. And having him live with her well maybe he would see her as more than just a friend.
She had more important things on her mind now she couldn't worry about that fact that she was shearing a house with the man she loved….and he didn't love her back….that she was probably going to spend the rest of her life alone…..a bridesmaid forever…. She shock her head and sighed, If Sherlock's plan was going to work, she had work to do.