Author's Note: So now that I have seen Series 2 of Sherlock I decided to rewrite this to match the canon story line a bit better.
SHERLOCK SHERLOCK
Detective Inspector Lestrade sat watching Doctor John Watson sleep, it was a drug induced sleep but it was sleep. In the months since Sherlock's death Lestrade had watch John slowly slip away. At first his morning had been normal for someone whom had just lost is best friend right before his eyes but it had only gotten worse with time not better. John stopped going out, he didn't go back to work at the surgery, and then he stopped eating much more than a couple of slices of toast. It was two months after Sherlock's death that Lestrade had gone to 221B Baker Street to return a few of Sherlock's belongings, including his beloved coat when he had found John near death. Which is why he now sat with John at St. Mary's on suicide watch, again. John was just a shell of his former self, he had lost a good deal of weight, his once blond hair was now a thin grey, and he had looked to have aged at least ten years. John didn't have a reason to go on with this life, all his reasons were gone, taken by the man trying to protect him. Every day for the last two month Lestrade took his lunch break at John's bedside. No one else ever came, Mrs. Hudson was too ill to make the trip across London. MolIy had come once but it had not gone well, she had broken down into tears the moment she had seen him. Even for Lestrade it hurt to watch John but he did it for John, he owed it to the man. John had changed Sherlock, he had made him in to a good man, and in return Sherlock had taken John to his grave with him. Often times he would tell John about recent cases, or if things were really slow about really old cases from before he knew Sherlock. On his good days John would acknowledge his presence with a small smile and a few one word responses but today was not a good day, the nurses had said the John had gone into a panic and tried to hurt himself again so they had given him something to calm him. These are the days when Lestrade wished he could turn to Sherlock and get angry at him for what he had done to John.
SHERLOCK SHERLOCK
Lestrade returned to his office at New Scotland Yard with a cup of coffee in hand. He went back to the piles of files that covered his desk. Without Sherlock around the number of unsolved cases had risen greatly. His own personal passion for his work was slowly fading, allow it was all he had left anymore not that his wife had left him for the gym teacher. He often thought of looking for a transfer out of London to some small village but he didn't have it in him to leave London.
"You really need to stop this." Said Donavan as she followed her boss into his office.
"I don't see anyone else going to see him." He paused. "He is all alone; no one gives a damn about him."
He put the cup down on his desk scared that he would drop it.
"Sally, have you gone to see him. If you had you would know that he is physically alive but nothing more."
Sally looked very uncomfortable, she had not gone to see John but everyone knew that he had been placed in hospital care when Lestrade had found him near death.
"They were all each other really cared about in the end. They were family, friends and coworkers, they revolved around each other." Said Lestrade remembering something John had told him at Sherlock's funeral.
He looked around the small office remembering the many memories of Sherlock in his office.
"What did you need Sally?"
"There is someone here to see you." She replied.
Lestrade rolled his eyes, what did this mystery person need, he had things to do not that they were going to get done anytime soon.
"Send him in." he replied turning to look out at the London skyline.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade." Said a tall slender man with short dark hair.
"Mr. Holmes." He replied to Mycroft Holmes. "What can I do for you?"
"Doctor John Watson." He said flatly.
"What about him?" responded Lestrade defensively.
"I have been informed that he has taken ill."
"Taken ill?" he paused, how could he be so calm about it. "John is dying of a broken heart; Sherlock died and left John to die alone. John is dying a slow painful death from loneliness. "
Mycroft didn't know what to say, he had only been informed in a recent briefing that John had been registered at St. Mary's; he hadn't been given any details.
"Bloody hell, John is on suicide watch for the 23rd time, if he's not sedated he is strapped to the bed. All he wants to do is die, and the whole world is fighting him for the chance to join Sherlock in death, to spend eternity together. He knows that you betrayed your brother, a part of him blames you for what happened." He paused to catch his breath. "Do you know how many times I have wanted to help him; the only thing that has stopped me is the knowledge that John wouldn't want me to end my career because this is all I have anymore."
Silence filled the room; Mycroft was out of his league. This was not how it was suppose to be, John was suppose to have gone on with his life and stayed safe.
"I will return tomorrow." He said heading for the door his umbrella tapping on the floor as he walked.
SHERLOCK SHERLOCK
Once Mycroft was in his car and headed back to his office he pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed. No one answered so he resorted to texting.
There has been a change in the plan, call me. -MH
Mycroft had stopped watching John and 221B Baker Street a few weeks after Sherlock's death, there didn't appear to be any need, something he now regretted. Mycroft had made sure that everything of Sherlock's had been left to John to continue on with his life but it hadn't been enough.
SHERLOCK SHERLOCK
Lestrade and Mycroft stood outside of John's room at St. Mary's waiting. Lestrade had been explaining to Mycroft what had happened in the time since Sherlock's memorial service. Mycroft said nothing as Greg spoke, he was shocked although he did not show it. If he had known he would have done things very differently, he would never have let things go this far. John could have easily succeded in taking his own life. After about twenty minutes they were quickly joined by another, and he was showing nothing. He didn't look well himself, he had grown thin and his once dark hair had started to grey.
"You have two choices; you either help him or put him out of his misery." Said Lestrade. "I can't watch you do this to him anymore, you meant everything to him."
Sherlock walked past Lestrade and Mycroft in to the room, he didn't knock, but then something never changed. It was a small white room, it smelled of antiseptic but what drew his eye was John. John had lost a serious amount of weight, he was covered with cuts and bruises, all self inflicted. He was unwell, his body showed signs of long term stress and it was obvious that his PTSD had returned along with the nightmares that had tormented him when he had first met Sherlock. He was not asleep; he was buried in his own thoughts not caring about the world around him. He was strapped to the bed; his body was tense with pain. Sherlock slowly approached the bed and began to slowly remove the bindings. Sherlock wasn't scared, John was too weak. Once free of the bindings Sherlock pulled John close, John didn't fight him he just hung limply in his arms.
What had he done? Whatever it was it was his fault, he had done this to John. He had driven John to this place. Lestrade was correct; he did have to make a choice. He had made the choice to leave John behind to keep him safe but all he had done was hurt John more that he had thought possible, now he had to make another choice but this was one of those rare occasions when he didn't know what do his, his heart was clouding his mind. Holding John felt like the most perfect thing in the world, it no longer mattered that there were international criminal masterminds that needed to be taken; right now he was exactly where he needed to me.