This is my first attempt at a fan fiction so any advice, or reviews would be greatly accepted. Thanks!
It was a week after he jumped. One whole week or maybe even more, he couldn't tell. Sherlock Holmes felt so guilty, and when he saw John at his grave he had to stop himself from running towards him.
"Why did you get yourself in to this mess Sherlock?" he whispered to himself. He never thought he would get so attached to John, in fact he actually never thought he would get attached to anyone. Sentimentality wasn't something that Sherlock was big on.
An arm linked through his, it was Molly. Kind, beautiful Molly Hooper.
"Sherlock, he's really depressed." she said.
"Yes I know, but he has to think I am dead. You need to look after him for me, look after him, but keep distant if you can. I know he has Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and I hope that Mycroft is trying to help." he answered.
"I'll try." Molly replied, "You know, I will do anything for you." and with that they left the shade of the trees and exited the cemetery by the back entrance, a tear running down Sherlock's face.
John Watson knocked on the door of his flat in 221B Baker Street expecting his flat mate, Sherlock to answer it. He stood there for at least ten minutes before he remembered that Sherlock would never answer the door to him again. He dug his hands into his pockets to find his key, and pushed it in to the lock. He pushed the door open slowly expecting-and praying-to see Sherlock standing at the window, violin in one hand phone in the other, but there was no one there. A tear slowly fell down his cheek and he reached for his phone. Sherlock how could you do this to me he typed your my best friend and you've left me.-JW. He never expected anyone to answer but a phone was never found on the scene so he had to hope.
John walked towards the couch, picked up Sherlock's second favourite dressing gown and hugged it. He felt the material get damp quite quickly.
He heard the door open and a voice saying "John how are you coping? I brought you up a nice cup of tea." it was Mrs Hudson, his-and Sherlock's land lady.
All he managed to say was a feeble "Thank you."
"Molly phoned earlier. She was asking for you, I asked her round for tea later. Is that okay?" she asked.
"Yes I have been meaning to call her." he replied.
Mrs Hudson left the room and went downstairs. John went to Sherlock's room, he sat down on the bed and looked around, for anything, any clue, any piece of evidence that this was all just a bad nightmare or that Sherlock was still alive, and just in hiding. He lay down and realised that there was a blue scarf lying on the bed, it was Sherlock's. John was confused, he ran downstairs with it to ask Mrs Hudson if she knew anything about it.
"I found this" he said.
"What is it?" she asked, "Oh that, yes I found it pushed through the letter box just after you left for your walk this morning. It was Sherlock's wasn't it, I assume that the nice police man Lestrade must have left it for you."
"Okay, when was Molly coming round?" he asked.
"Around about three o'clock." she said.
"Okay."
John walked back upstairs, slowly. He took out his phone and found Lestrade's number in his contacts. Hi it's John here, I was wondering, did you come round earlier today?-JW. He heard the ping of his phone go off, and remembered he had texted Sherlock's phone not too long ago. He opened up the message and read it No sorry John, why?-GL, he felt disappointed that it wasn't from Sherlock but he didn't expect it. He was really confused though when he read the text. What about Donovan, or Anderson?-JW. He knew that wasn't likely as he had expressed his hate towards the both of them just after the funeral and hadn't heard from either of them since. Another ping went off Do you really think either of them would be visiting you? But why anyway?-GL. Again John was confused. I found Sherlock's blue scarf lying on his bed when I came in. Mrs Hudson said that someone had put it through the letter box, she thought it might have been you.-JW. He was starting to get tired, but Molly would be round in a bit so he shrugged it off and went back to his phone. Well it wasn't any of us John, I am sorry. How are you doing?-GL. He read the text, how did Lestrade think he was bloody doing, his best friend had just committed suicide because of him and his bloody team, he chose to just ignore the text.
He heard a knock on the door, and a quiet voice saying "John are you there?" it was Molly, he hadn't seen her since the day Sherlock jumped. He rushed to meet her, and gave her a massive hug, nearly breaking down in to tears. "John, I know that you are probably sick of people asking you this but are you okay?". He never answered, he just sniffed. Molly guided him towards the couch and placed him down, "What have you got there?" she asked.
"It's his scarf." he answered. "It's Sherlock's scarf."
"How did you get it?"
"I don't know it was on his bed when I got back in."
Mrs Hudson walked in with a tray, she placed it down on the table and filled up the three mugs. "Molly how are you?"
" Mrs Hudson I am okay. What about you?"
"I'm still a bit upset."
The conversation went on like this for a while, then Mrs Hudson left to go to bed. "Molly do you want to stay tonight? You can have my room, I'll sleep on the couch."
"That would be nice John, I thought it would be best so I brought over extra clothes. I don't mind sleeping on the couch though."
John and Molly talked well in to the night, a bottle of vodka between them, slowly emptying as the night went by. They were both asleep on the couch together by three in the morning.
John wolk up when he felt Molly tap him on the shoulder, it was nearly ten o'clock. His head was thumping, he looked down and saw an empty bottle on the ground. Him and Molly went downstairs to get some breakfast. By midday Molly had planned their activities for the next week. They were to go and visit the cemetery on Friday together, but that was all he took in, he was too hung over.