Okay, so this is my first-ever fanfiction, and therefore also my first-ever post on FF. I think I got the system sorted out a bit now, but it's still confusing.
I should add some stuff nonetheless. This story has never been read by anyone but me so errors might be in there although I tried to proofread it several times. Every chapter except for the prologue is titled after a song which sometimes resembles the atmosphere of the chapter, but more often I just liked a quote of it. You can still go listen to all the songs, I'll list them in the Author Notes.
Reviews will be much appreciated, even if you don't like it. After all, it's my first try to get the characters right. I probably failed very hard. I accept that.
Thanks for reading and have fun! :)
"No, Sherlock. No. Just… no."
Door breaking, silence. Loneliness. Tears, his first tears in what seems like an eternity.
Footsteps, away from him. Silence again. Sobbing, uncontrollable sounds.
Cabs leaving, taking him away. Screaming. A sudden realization: his screams.
His skull. A crack, bone pieces falling down the wall. More crying.
Mrs Hudson calling. No. No. Just no.
These words. The same words. His voice.
Extraordinary.
Sherlock was looking at a mess he could barely remember making when his door opened.
"Sherlock, are you okay? He's coming back, isn't he? He always comes back..."
Mrs Hudson's voice woke him from a trance he had never felt before. And immediately the pain came back. He had to force back his tears again just to say: "No. He will never come back."
He turned to the wall, couldn't look her in the eyes. It was too much for him but he couldn't give in now. He had a life of his own, he had never needed anybody, everybody had assured him so.
And still… this felt wrong.
"Mrs Hudson" he said, turning towards her and trying his best smile.
"Don't we have a case? I always have work to do. Has Lestrade called? I'm sure he has,"
His smile felt like an insane grimace, so he relaxed his muscles again and tried not to look creepy. Since he felt like a zombie, that was harder to manage than he had thought.
Mrs Hudson just shook her head, not sure whether answering was wise or not. Finally, she said: "Oh dear. I'm sorry. I really am. Look what he's done to do. Let me bring you some tea."
Sherlock wasn't sure if he wanted to be alone or not, so he sank in his soft armchair and tried to observe the situation.
John had left him because he wasn't what he wanted him to be. But… he never had been, right? Sherlock had never fulfilled anybody's expectations so that feeling shouldn't be new to him.
Instead, there was a big hole in his chest.
Oh John, he thought, what am I doing without you? Are you really better off without me? Are you happy now?