Hello! First ever Sherlock fanfiction... But yes I hope you enjoy! Just to clarify this is not going to be romantic Johnlock. Just friendship! This is just a short chapter but I promise they will be longer in the future, once I get going with it. Please review!
I do not own Sherlock of any of the characters.
"Hello again, Sherlock. I know you're probably getting a bit sick of my voice by now, but I still feel I should visit you all the same." John stared at the ground in front of his grave, feeling the same despair as he had done when he fell. He felt he needed to keep him up to date on anything, he always knew how Sherlock disliked not being told everything (although some things he just hadn't cared about anyway).
"Um. Well, what's new? I suppose how much can change in the space of a fortnight? Not much. No wait, I take that back, when you were here that was a completely different story," he chuckled softly, "I got that job at the hospital that I told you about, not Bart's, obviously, but it's not too much further away. It's given me a purpose again, I like that. Yeah I know it's not exactly chasing some Chinese gangsters around the backstreets of London but it's something, right?"
John looked up into the grey sky, reminiscing of his past life. It was so much more exciting! Sitting down type? Never. John needed action, a purpose, excitement. His limp was back again, of course. He hadn't had it since before he'd met Sherlock. That was the night he knew he'd found his place. He'd felt that familiar adrenaline that he had craved in Afghanistan, and Sherlock had cured him. Cured him of his limp, cured him of his troubles with eating and cured his dragging depressing life.
"Remember that girl I told you about? From the shop in town? Yeah, well we went out on a date, and I'll just put it this way, she had interesting hobbies" John laughed again, "Not calling her back that's for sure! Pretty certain you probably would have saved me the trouble of the whole experience with just one look at her!"
"Oh and Sherlock, Mrs Hudson and I have decided to start cleaning out 221b today. I know I don't live there anymore but it has been seven months and I think I need to start getting things into order. I'm still not sure whether Mycroft's going to continue paying for the flat or not, I think I heard him mention it once or twice. If not, I guess Mrs Hudson's going to find some new tenants. And to be honest, that breaks my heart. That somebody else will live where we lived, where you nearly blew the whole flat up multiple times, where you shot a smiley face into the wall just because you were bored , which, will probably have to be plastered and covered. Well, that's if Mycroft doesn't take over the rent. We'll see anyway."
"So I guess this is goodbye for now, Sherlock. I'll be back in about a fortnight, as always." He nodded his head in salute and turned on his step, walking out of the graveyard.
Sherlock stood behind a gravestone, looking at John from afar. He could still hear him of course, he wanted to. His expression stayed blank, he closed his eyes. He remembered the day of his funeral, how John had begged him for one more miracle. Don't. Be. Dead. Sherlock hadn't been in the country for most of the year, did he still pray for that miracle?
Maybe it was time.