A/N: This is my first Sherlock fic! I hope you all like it! Feel free to fave and review, it all helps!
Empty. That's what the flat feels like when he walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. No experiments brewing on the table, no estranged mutterings tangled with mild profanities and no bloody violin. John Watson, an ex-army Doctor, shared this place with the worlds only consulting detective, the great Sherlock Holmes. Normally, John would assume the silence was from the lack of his flatmates presence, but not today. No, today something felt different.
Slowly John walked to the living room, not even bothering to put away the shopping. The skull- that blasted skull- had been moved from its usual perch on the mantelpiece, to occupy John's chair. So Sherlock actually noticed his absence, unlike so many times when John would be gone for days un-noticed. John proceeded to shuffle around some papers and things until he found what he was looking for. An ashtray, filled to the brim with cigarette butts, smoked all the way down to the filters. He promised John though to himself. He promised me that he would quit! That's when John heard it. The sound that will haunt him the rest of his life.
"John." It was little more that a groan, barely audible from where John stood. It was not the moan that sent the doctor running, but the tremendous crash that followed. He raced down the hall to Sherlock's room, flung open the door- and gasped in shock!