Lost to Wrong

by syringa101

Some people can't recover from huge impacts on their life; can't adjust to the change. John is one of those people. What will happen when he chooses to resort to the worst of things to draw Sherlock back after his "death"? What risks will he take to see his best friend again and what measures will Sherlock take to save John from himself? Dark!John.

Sherlock was gone. How could he leave him? God knows John believed he was alive. Of course he was. Why was it that Sherlock got to get away with everything? Why did he get to leave and break his heart?

John stared at the gun on the table, his eyes flickering to knife next to it. Then he moved his sight down the table, looking at the objects he'd put out. A rope tied into a noose. A capsule of pills. It was foolish, he realized, to take his own life. He would just be remembered as the man who couldn't keep it together after his friend became a suspected serial killer. He would be seen as weak and not strong enough.

He shook his head angrily, his fists clenching at the actual thought of a reality where he went through with it.

"Where are you, Sherlock?" He whispered, standing in the center of their shared flat.

It was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't have "died" and left him. John knew he was alive. Why didn't he come back? Why did he have to play Moriarty's game? John scoffed, wiping away the unformed tears in his eyes with a fire burning in him.

He was so angry. He wanted Sherlock back. He needed Sherlock back. It felt like the world was ignoring his best friend had just left him. The world should be suffering and feeling what he was feeling. It was so unfair. Why didn't the people react bigger to his apparent suicide? Why did they have to accept the fake cover story and move on? Couldn't they know that it was fake? Why didn't they fight? Why didn't they feel what he felt?

John exhaled deeply, then stepped forward quickly and swiped the things off his desk. They land on the floor loudly, but he didn't care. He couldn't find himself caring for anything these days. He could already hear Mrs. Hudson coming up the stairs. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breathes before she entered.

"Dear God, what's gotten into you, John?" She inquired, noticing the damage he had just done. Then her eyes focused on what he had tossed about. Her eyes widened, but John ignored her and pushed past her, making his way down the stair. "John!" She called after him at the top of the stairs. "John, wait!"

He could hear her following him out the door, but he didn't slow. Calling a cab, he left her on the sidewalk calling out for him. His eyes remained forward as he ignored her.

He needed Sherlock.