Nothing had changed and it annoyed him.
His friend was just fine, and it annoyed him more than he expected.
It was like she was nothing to him, like neglected wallpaper that had been replaced with another one.
He didn't have anything against Dr. Jane, she was good at her job as a pathologist, a good person in general, and she could handle his friend's moods very well, but still it felt wrong, this was her place, her kingdom, and she was its queen.
She. Nobody dared to say her name after what happened, it was almost forbidden, like if it was said out loud it would open all the wounds that didn't even heal entirely.
All of them were mourning her. Mrs. Hudson cried for days. Greg blamed himself for what happened. Even his wife who didn't have the time to know her well enough was devastated for the lost of a potential very close friend.
All of them were affected except him. He didn't even attend her funeral. When John asked him why, his only answer was what's the point.
He fought the urge inside him to hit the coldhearted bastard in front of him, trying one last time to remind him of the situation that surrounded them.
"Don't you need to say your last goodbye?"
Sherlock looked to him like he said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"She's not there John, you know that." His cold voice raised the anger inside John, so he left him to the absurd experiment he was drown in before he did something he would regret and went to see if Mrs. Hudson got ready yet.
It was an empty coffin. There was nothing left to bury after the explosion, but they needed a closure. If it wasn't for the DNA tests and the videos from the hospital cameras, they would never even believe it.
His wife told him to leave his friend alone, let him grieve in his own way. The problem was he never saw him grieving at all. He thought he would see any sign after they solved the miserable case of Moriarty, but nothing showed on the surface, he believed he wouldn't work with the new pathologist without protesting, but he did so easily, very normally it was killing him.
He admitted at least to himself there was a selfish reason behind his anger.
He imagined his best friend moving on after him without looking behind even once, never mourning him. He didn't want him to suffer -maybe a little bit for what he did to him after the famous fall-but at least he wanted him to respect his absence, FOR GOD'S SAKE AT LEAST ATTEND HIS FUNERAL.
He never thought she was less than him to Sherlock. She was the woman who killed him to save him, whose her home was his safe place in the darkest times, why should it be any different for him.
He went to Baker Street to check on him as usual, he hadn't heard from him since they solved the last case, only a four, yes he was taking those now, he wondered why.
"What do you think of Jane?" He didn't know where this came from, especially when it came in accusing tone.
"Who?" Sherlock didn't even get his eyes off his microscope.
"Jane, the new pathologist, you know, the one who took Molly's place."
He got his head up for the first time since John entered the room, his eyes were empty.
"Why don't you say what is bothering you John, and save both our time."
He gave his full attention to the man sitting in front of him. John didn't expect such a behavior.
"Why do you think something is bothering me?" John said with his angry smile.
"Why don't you tell me so we get over it?"
John was boiling with anger, and he was sitting there calm, he got up from his seat, looking away from his friend, trying to control his temper.
"You didn't go to her funeral, never visited her grave once." though he wanted to keep calm, his voice was shaking.
"It looks like you have early symptoms of Alzheimer and need to check, I told you john there is no point."
"FOR GOD'S SAKE SHERLOCK SHE WAS YOUR FRIEND!" John shouted, unable to keep his anger inside anymore.
John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax.
"How could you not mourn her even for a moment, I know you don't deal with emotions like the most of us" he breathed deeply "But really how could you?" His voice was low at the end, hurt and shocked.
"Again John, what would be the point?" Sherlock's voice was calm, as it was from the beginning.
John was about to attack him to wipe the coldness out of his face, to make him feel anything, acting as human, but Sherlock continued.
"What's the point John of admitting she was nothing to me at all, or she was every good thing exist in me, the love I fought it for years and all for nothing?"
The doctor didn't blink.
"She's gone John, in spite all my attempts to keep her away from me, away from my demons, and after everything, I lost her, with the hands of my enemies, ironic don't you think?" He laughed bitterly.
John needed to sit down, his legs weren't holding him anymore, he swallowed hard looking to his friend, he was still cold, but he could see it for the first time, the call for help in his eyes, it felt like Sherlock was the one pushing him to talk, he knew now he needed to get all that out of his chest.
John swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.
"You can't keep all this inside you Sherlock. You need to deal with your feelings. We can help." he didn't recognize his voice, trying to be strong, sounding anything but that.
"Yeees, why not." Sherlock said sarcastically, and then he rose up.
"Maybe if I revealed my feelings the pain would go away." then he looked to him.
"Or maybe better it would bring her back." He looked up to the ceiling "I love you Molly." He said in theatrical way, and rolled in his place searching.
"Maybe this time it will work." His tone was still sarcastic.
"I LOVE YOU MOLLY." he yelled again but his voice was shaking.
"I LOVE YOU MOLLY." he shouted one more time louder, looking to the ceiling for a long moment, looking like a desperate man waiting for a miracle to fall.
He closed his eyes and when he opened them and looked to his friend there were tears.
"See, no point at all." he smiled.
The doctor wanted to get up. It was the second time he felt like hugging the man in front of him, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed.
Sherlock reached his chair again, gaining back his cold eyes and self.
"If you have a better way to make this pain go away, John, I beg you to show it to me, till then, let me deal with it the only way I can." He lowered his eyes to the microscope. The topic never got opened again.
The government was busy, as always. He heard the clicks of his assistant's heels.
Without getting his head up of the file between his hands he told her to leave the file she held for later, he knew it was the updates of his brother's status, he had more important things to do.
She slammed the file on his disk, making him look at her in surprise.
"You need to see it Mycroft." He sighed heavily and took the file. She never used his name here unless there was a bomb about to explode all over their faces. She was right as usual.