One major spoiler ahead if you guys haven't seen The Reichenbach Fall, Season 2 Episode 3.
Short fanfic about John cleaning the flat after the tragic suicide of Sherlock.
Not too sweary and a bit of Johnlock, but nothing extreme.
Hope you guys like it!
Blind to Illusions
He was staring straight ahead, forgetting how to breath, blink, and even speak; he just kept staring like his life depended on it.
"-on..."
The voice seemed to have wanted his attention, but he ignored it.
"John..?"
He missed to realize something was off when...
"JOHN."
The man's thoughts were finally interrupted as he glared at the lady in front of him. He moved way too fast and almost seemed as though he was angry at her.
Mrs Hudson felt like she had done a big mistake, "Oh dear I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
Immediately, John stopped her in the kindest of ways "No, no... I'm sorry Mrs Hudson; please don't get me wrong. I didn't mean to do so. It's just... Been so long since I last came in here, and to not see... him... here... It's hitting me harder than I thought it could. Don't worry, I need to empty the flat and I will do it... It's been almost a year since all this happened... It needs to be done now; we can't just ignore it forever."
Mrs. Hudson placed a hand on his arm "I am so sorry... You insisted on doing the cleanup yourself but... I could help you out, you know?"
The soldier smiled, hiding his true feelings behind his words "I feel like it's something I need to do myself; first because I still have some of my belongings here, then second because of the papers here. Most were brought secretly and almost illegally from the previous owner," he refused to say his name out loud, "I wouldn't want you to get in any troubles because of this. At least, I know which ones are good and which ones should be burnt."
"All right dear... Do you wish to have a cuppa before I leave..?" She asked him politely with an apologetic smile.
"It's very nice of you Mrs Hudson, but I just had a cuppa before getting here." he declined nicely.
The lady looked around, slowly analyzing what had to be done. "If you need anything dear please let me know, I will do my best in what I can help you with."
"Thank you Mrs Hudson. If anything I will let you know."
She looked one last time at John before walking out on a quicker step than usual. Probably to hide her tears from me. John thought.
Once the landlady was officially outside, John couldn't hold it back anymore. "Bloody hell!" he screamed after a long silent moment. The soldier kicked the small table in front of him down, then let himself desperately fall where he sat down just a moment ago, on his usual chair. He held back to tell Mrs Hudson at what he was looking at exactly while she was trying to get his attention. It was the only and strict reason to why he hadn't come earlier to clear the flat. John had a hard time since the day he had left this world. He was seeing him around all the time. Him. Every so often, John would see him just staring straight up at him, like he was actually looking at John. Some other times, he would be walking around, eating, searching for clues... But every time John would double check, his partner was gone. He even asked his wife, Mary, wondering if he did saw him or someone similar to the least. Mary's explanation to all this was that John was so used to have this certain person's presence by his side all the time that his subconscious was creating an image of him to feel like he never left. Since that revelation, John avoided the subject, not even asking anyone anymore if they did see the man. He was just having his secret illusions... It became normal.
When Mrs Hudson called to ask John if it was alright for him to come sometime this week to clean the flat, he accepted. His secret goal was to go and see it for himself. He could now know if the detective was simply hiding in his small place, away from the world. He merged in, going up the stairs skipping some, only to see him casually sitting down on HIS chair.
He lost all control.
But when the landlady snapped him out from his few moment of heaven, he was gone... Like every other times.
John hated it.
"Of course you're not here, what was I thinking" the lonely man sighed sinking in the chair. "I was hoping you would be... just being hopeful... it was all just hopeless" he complained. "Darn everything."
John looked around exactly like Mrs Hudson had done earlier. There was a lot to be done, that he knew of. There surely was work he couldn't see right away. Stuff hidden, stuff that seemed useless, small work, bigger work... He didn't have to be a genius to know that. Not only the papers had to be placed and labeled, but a lot of dust accumulated itself everywhere after months of inactivity. If Mrs Hudson wanted to sell the flat he had to, at least, make the place look better. So not only was he stuck with the main work, but many tinier tasks kept accumulating itself one over the other.
The ruckus he caused earlier made an even bigger mess. At least, nothing was broken. But there was even more papers everywhere that had to be classified and filed. He kept muttering to himself all the way to the flat that he'd stay emotionless: now that he was alone, his eyes only became the mirror of his true emotions as they were wet in tears refusing to go down his cheeks.
It's only after a silent hour he decided it was time to start cleaning up.
The pain of each memory held in every inches of the flat made John stop multiple times. High functioning sociopath. The Study in Pink. Smokes. Nicotine patches. Consultive Detective. Skull. Holes in the wall. A yellow smiley face. Cuppa. Hat. Microscope. John closed his eyes. He often thought of leaving everything as it is until he was finally comfortable to seriously deal with his work.
Giving a quick glance at the clock, he figured dinner would be a great idea. It gave him an excuse to step out of the flat. There was nothing to eat there since a long time now, so eating at a restaurant was the only possible option... Not feeling like taking the cab, John walked to the Tapas Brindisa Soho Restaurant, only a five minute walk from the flat. Relieved from the stress caused from being enclosed in the small restricted memory calling area, John took a deep breath, before he could start walking.
As soon as he walked in, the idea of leaving became only the most logical assumption in his mind. Though, he couldn't turn around now. The waiter dragged him to the table the closest to the window, the one he wanted to avoid the most. "Come on in, John Watson! It's been almost a year since you last came here! Come in! Come in! Please take a seat!"
Oh God. No. "No I'll be alright. I just wanted to take something to bring back home I-" he started but got cut mid-sentence.
"Please take your time! It's nice to see you here and if you stay I will make it free for you, after all, you were his dearest friend and so you became mine!" Friend... "So what will it be?" Were...
His head echoed the words as he stared at the blank instead of the chief... But John was looking at someone he knew the other man couldn't see. "I'll take the meal of the day then" he answered clearing his throat.
With a smile, the chief walked away, "one meal of the day it is!"
John kept looking at him... They were placed in the same positions from the day they chased a cab wanting to discover who was the murderer. John's back was facing the window, he was staring outside. They went there together in the very first days they met, back then it was still to be only flat mates. Not long after, they became a duo, one hardly pronounced their names separately. Here they were together now, again. But to only one person's point of view. John tried to ignore him, but he couldn't help glancing over. He was acting like a little kid who is cheating in a hide n seek game after saying "no peeking" mutliple times.
He couldn't help it. Despite his army years, the soldier couldn't help but realize how he looked the exact same as back then. He looked down to the glass of water the chief brought him without noticing, taking it in his hands and when he looked up, the man sitting with him started moving, looking away, analyzing the situation and making faces as though he was having a conversation with himself. The detective stood up taking his coat and walked towards the door. John was going to stand up to follow when he did the mistake to look down for his cane he hadn't taken in forever nor even brought at the restaurant... And looking away usually made him disappeared... Just like at that exact moment. Why the darn cane. Why. I don't even have this stupid thing anymore. I don't even need it. I was too caught up in the past, I lost all chances to see what was going to happen.
Sitting back down, he lost his appetite. When the chief brought his meal, he ate it to be polite, hoping that in the end, he wouldn't regret eating.
Why was he stuck with this bloody problem?
He went back to the flat in extreme silence. He was at the door, but he didn't say anything. He just seemed to have been waiting for John to come back so he could open the door for him. But obviously, as soon as John opened the door, he disappeared. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, almost breaking the handle at the same time with the strength he used.
Cleaning the flat seemed impossible now, so he sat on his very own chair, starring the empty one in front of him. Come on why can't you either stop appearing or just... Appear when I'm alone so we can have conversations instead of being stuck in this silence? He whined. He leaned his head against his chair, resting slowly as he fell asleep in this position, exhausted from the emotional train he's been on in the last hours.
John woke up late that morning, a blanket on him and a cuppa next to him. He knew it was hopeless to get his expectations high up, so right up he said: "Good morning Mrs Hudson."
The smiling lady came in "Dear, John! Good morning dear, how did you sleep? I hope you don't mind the blanket I didn't want you to catch a cold and I did the tea exactly how you like it!"
John couldn't help but grin back; she, indeed, remembered how he liked it. He was quite flattered. "Thank you Mrs Hudson, I really appreciate it."
"Why didn't you go back home instead of sleeping there like this? You don't look quite comfortable..." She asked the poor sleepy man.
"I fell asleep without realizing, I was just taking a break. To the rhythm things are going, I might have to stay here for a while and finish this whole place entirely, it will take a while."
"You know... Your bedroom is still upstairs if you are still interested... You're the last one who slept in the bed, and so it is still yours."
"It's really kind of you but I should decline your offer" John said feeling like the offer was a bit too much.
"If you ever change your mind just go for it dear, it will be my pleasure." To these words Mrs Hudson left the flat.
John placed the blanket on the table after neatly folding it, took a sip of his tea and went back to work as soon as possible. He didn't want to stay there for too long, the sooner he could go away, the better it was to him. After all, it is barely if he had to start thinking about his flat mate to be able to see him. Sometimes, John didn't realize he was doing so, without noticing how he was thinking about the man, but then there he was, suddenly appearing.
This morning, he was looking through papers. The ones he's been working with yesterday and have to finish cleaning up.
The soldier sniffed, rather annoyed. He made sure he was alone before he said anything. "Hey. Hum... Hi... I've been wondering if you were willing to help me out and..." he tried. Thinking all this was useless, he stopped mid sentence.
Yet, the curly haired to man lifted his head up from the papers with a smile taking over the corner of his lips, to then go back at looking down and pointing few papers laying around.
John stayed in shock, unsure how to react to all this. Like if they were working in a team, John took the papers he pointed and put them in a file, and some others in the to be burnt pile. This kept going on for a straight hour, where everything felt like it was back to normal... Or almost... He was too silent.
"Where should this go?" John asked turning around to take a look at his delusional help only to realize he once again left him alone behind. The lonely man threw the papers to the ground before walking away hoping to hide his tears from himself. He knew these apparitions were just parts of his mind, they were always being formed to annoy him, but every time he was hoping they were, at least, partly true.
After pulling himself back together, John returned to his task. He couldn't slack off like he did yesterday.
Next morning came, and John fell asleep again on the same chair with the same blanket covering him, a cuppa next to him. "Good morning Mrs. Hudson" he said cheerfully.
"Good morning dear. Why didn't you take the room upstairs?" The lady asked arriving with John's breakfast, bread and jam.
"I rather not, this way it's easier to sell the house." He answered taking a bite right away as he skipped the supper on the previous day.
"It wouldn't change much..." She looked down, thoughtful, before looking back up to him "Oh John by the way, I was wondering if you wanted your cane back..? I have been keeping it here since a while and always forgot to give it back to you and I keep-"
John seemed confused "What? No, Mrs Hudson I'm fine. I don't need it."
"But dear I'm seeing you limping... You know there's no shame, I've got a hip myself..." She hesitated before going on "but you should take your cane."
"I'm not limping!" He almost shouted. "I'm perfectly fine!"
Mrs Hudson backed away "I'm sorry I'm sorry... I will bring it back to you eventually anyways. I cannot keep it here forever."
And to these words Mrs Hudson once again walked out the house, leaving John speechless, feeling guilt take over him.
Sitting down with his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands, he started losing it slowly. No. No. No. No no no no no no no no nO NO NO NO NO NO "NO!" He eventually managed to scream, kicking the blanket away to not break anything or undo any files. He couldn't be getting this darn limp and stupid leg problem back. It was purely ridiculous and out of the question. This couldn't re-happen again.
But after all the stress of being back there, seeing him everywhere and just... And just...
"John?"
He froze. This... was not Mrs Hudson.
Excited, he turned around, but no one was there.
He hit his leg harder against the chair, causing him to, this time, hold it back tightly and sob quietly. Of course now he could hear his voice. He was going insane. Insane. Completely. And he only knew, he only could know. Now the last thing to do was finish up this whole place entirely so he could leave the fastest possible.
Night darkened the sky and soon John was asleep.
It was another day where his partner in crime helped him out discovering what was right, and what was wrong. Another day where he heard his voice but nothing less... Now 4 days, 5 days... And the more time went by, the longer he stayed there the more he could see him, hear him, but not once was both done at the same time. Every morning he would wake up on his chair, Mrs Hudson would appear with a cuppa and sometimes a breakfast, and he'd go back to work. He'd talk to him, work... But he knew it was all in his mind. He went back on his chair on that 5th night... Sleeping there was now a routine that Mrs Hudson became accustomed to.
He woke up on the 6th day. Much was already done. He had the blanket covering him, a cuppa, but no one waiting for him to wake up. I'm guessing Mrs Hudson is gone with Mrs Turner for breakfast this morning. He stayed there a bit, hoping to hear him say anything, even if he knew he wasn't much of a speaker. John turned around expecting to now see him. Nothing.
The doctor was perplexed but didn't make a fuss out of it. He calmly stood up and started doing his things. Without his help, the soldier seemed a bit more hesitant, unsure what was right or not. He tried anyways, not wanting to disappoint Mrs Hudson. He wanted everything to be done by tomorrow, the latest. It has almost been a week after all.
By darkness rise, almost everything was done. The only thing bothering him was... Why haven't he seen him all day? Even for supper, he went back to the Tapas Brindisa Soho Restaurant in the hope of seeing him. But his hopes and expectations were for nothing.
He went back home in the hope he'd be there, sitting and reading, but it was all for nothing. John sighed. It was good his illusions were done... But for some reasons... It saddened him. He now felt very lonely, more than he ever did. Numb...
He sat on the chair once more but a bit earlier than he usually does. He wasn't quite in any mood to keep working and it's barely if an hour or two of work was left. Then everything was done. He wouldn't have to go back there ever again. Of course he'd keep in touch with Mrs Hudson, but 221B Baker Street would be out of reach.
The thought of it felt unreal. He didn't seem to realize it yet, or even understand what it truly meant.
He stared ahead of him. The minutes felt like hours. What seemed like hours to him were ages before he could close his eyes have a good night sleep.
John woke up that night feeling someone else's presence, a really common one. He wanted to speak, stand up, walk, but his body said no.
He stayed there, his eyes shut close. He was unable to do anything. Not long did it take for him to hear the door close that he felt a hand on his head, passing through his short hair before he felt the person's breath on his head. I'm back home. A gentle kiss was gently placed on his head.
He felt the blanket surrounding his shoulders and John drifted off to dream land again, smiling.
John was awake early that morning, before Mrs Hudson even arrived home. "Oh dear! I'm sorry I'm so late!"
"No worries" the man answered already at the table eating. "I felt you come in anyways last night like usual and put the blanket up."
The landlady was now giving him a terrified glance "It wasn't me dear... I didn't come last night. I was with Mrs Turner and I was so exhausted I just went to bed right away..."
John chocked on his meal. "I felt someone wrap me in the blanket, I'm not crazy I know it happened."
She gave him a stare filled with sympathy "You probably pulled the blanket up yourself..?"
But I felt someone. I thought it was Mrs Hudson. I knew it was him. But it's only my imagination, so it was someone else I mistook him for. But who was it? Mary?
Mrs Hudson grabbed his hand "you were exhausted... I'm sure you just don't remember and got captivated in your dreams. Please do not make yourself sick over this situation."
John faked a smile "Alright. Thanks."
After a long conversation that lasted over 2 hours with Mrs Hudson about what will happen with the flat, who will be taking it over, how's everything going and other casualties, John saw the clock ticking 12. It would now be his last day in this flat, finishing everything at last. He hadn't seen him, feel, speak... Nothing. He figured he imagined everything last night, like every other times.
At 4 o'clock the flat was clean and free of papers that John will need to bring either to Lestrade, the police, home, or fire. He waited a bit before heading out as he took his time to look around. It was harder than he expected it to be. Why couldn't he just... Walk out? Be free from those mind problems? Why? He sighed, took a deep breath and quickly grabbed everything he needed and headed towards the door.
Later that night, John was back at the flat with new equipment Mrs Hudson made him bring as he recalled he forgot his coat, as he didn't want to stay so left too quickly and left it behind by mistake. He dropped the box on the table to Mrs Hudson request. She would fix everything the day after.
John looked at his watch, he could read 11:15, which was a bit earlier than the time he woke up the night before.
When he woke up.
For him.
The presence.
His presence.
He sniffed, staying on the very same spot for a bit, waiting for something to happen. But he couldn't just leave the place without going to one specific spot, look there and make sure that nothing has really happened... And so John ran to his room, forgetting about his darn leg and kicked the door open, but no one was there. Of course. Why would this one room change anything? He came back here after a hard goodbye, why couldn't he just stay out of all this? He almost forgot he wasn't normal, he wasn't anywhere near it. Of course he'd been searching to see him one last time. He seemed to have forgotten he could see and speak to things that weren't there... Or people. A Person. Why would he be there. Why? He's dead. Dead. He saw him throwing himself down the building. He saw him killing himself. He saw everything. He remembered everything. Illusions or not, he was not going to come back.
It was killing him in every possible ways.
He couldn't save him.
John sat on the bed. This time, as much as he was tired and really, really wanted to cry, he just couldn't. Nothing came out. Nothing seemed possible. Everything just hit him hard and straight up in the face.
Right now, all he wanted was walk out the flat once and for all.
"I'm back home... John" he heard the voice say.
John didn't look up. It was hard enough to leave the flat the first time, he couldn't even pull himself together a second time, he was not going to let his illusions make it any harder.
The man with the long coat and scarf called out his name gently "John..."
John looked up.
"John, I'm back!"
John kept looking at him, extremely irritated now, as he could now see him speak... He could now SEE him SPEAK. Usually it was one at the time. That's it. But now both? It just had to become harder to leave wasn't it? He was hoping to look up and have him disappear...
"Why are you looking at me this way? I thought you would've been... happy to see me... Why are you angry? " he asked extremely worried.
"Look just... Stop? Alright? It's hard enough as it is." John asked, starting to lose it.
"What are you talking about? John, everything can go back to normal now!"
John sighed "No it cannot!" He stood up and walked towards the door to walk away.
"Why not?" He asked blocking the shorter one to leave, to which John stayed surprised, why did he actually stop walking if he wasn't really there. "I don't understand why you are not happy to see me..."
"Bloody hell can you just stop? Please?" John busted.
And the man became silent, more confused than he ever was.
"Look, alright? I've been cleaning up this flat since a week now, you left me alone. You thought it would be a brilliant idea to just leave me alone. Never mind John, get me? I'll let him have his delusional, I'll let him suffer, I'll let him cry forever, I'll let him beat himself mentally, I'll let him anything! What is wrong with you? And to now show yourself at the door like nothing ever happened? To show yourself here and expect me to be happy when I'm clearly trying to leave? Not only do you stand there but you're talking to me. You're making it really hard. I would've rather never see you again than having to see you and beg me to stay after all I've been through." He knew he was just a creation of his mind, but he couldn't help but rage at him. If he said everything, maybe then would he leave him alone. Maybe could he be in peace afterwards. "It doesn't feel right and seriously all this is a real pain in the arse, you should've just never mind everything like you did on that day you jumped down, easier for everyone. Now I have to worry about not looking crazy all the time and seriously people start to look at me with those airs of pity and it's so degrading. Mrs Hudson herself told me my leg became a problem again as I was put through waaaay too much stress because of you! You fucked up my life completely! I was counting on you, and you abandoned me!" John took his breath, wanting to calm down a bit.
"So..." The other man started... taking a pause to look straight up at his partner with a gleam of trauma, lost hopes and unexplainable feelings. "You're not... happy... to see me..?" He asked seriously, to which John knew he became extremely upset, sad, disappointed. "John..."
Good, now he has emotions.
"I am happy. I really am." He tried explaining but it now seemed impossible. What he just said broke all opportunity.
He looked away, hiding something behind his silence.
John brought both his hands in front of him to defend himself "It's just hard alright? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You jumped down, I saw you flat dead, and to this day it is still extremely hard for me to accept. I still can't get over the fact you died, suicide, you killed yourself. You left me alone and-" John stopped, completely.
He was holding him.
"Sherlock..." John said softly, the name that was forever forbidden slipped out his mouth.
Sherlock was there, holding him tightly in his arms. "Don't say sorry, you idiot" he spat. "Clearly I'm the one who caused you the most troubles." He hasn't eaten properly in days, even lost around 15 pounds... More than just a week, it's been going on for the last year. Has been having troubles sleeping... Is it because of war? No... Other night terrors... He's trembling... He's not anxious, not scared... In need of familiarity... I'm here John... I'm here... John... My John. "I'm here... John..."
"Sherlock... You damn idiot" John told him, holding onto him tighter. It annoyed him, it pissed him off, he started crying. How long was he going to be crazy? How long was he going to see things? Hear them? And now, feel them? It was only getting harder for him to leave the place. It felt so real, it felt amazing. It was better than he ever imagined. "Sherlock... Sherlock..." he cried, trembling with uncontrollable feelings and thoughts going in and out his head. He couldn't help but hold onto his dearest partner, his head resting on his chest, feeling his body warmth, his arms around him, the love and protection he hadn't felt in a year.
"John... It's ok" he held tighter too. "Everything will be just fine... I'll never leave you again... I'll never leave you again I promise... John I did it to protect you but... I only hurt you... I'm... I'm sorry"
"I'm just glad I get to feel you in my arms... Even if it's just for a few minutes... It feels so good..."
"I can hold you for hours if it can make you smile... Make you feel better... John... I owe you after all this."
"Sherlock I love you..."
It grew quiet.
"I-I'm sorry that came out on its own I didn't mean to say it out loud I mean like..."
Sherlock kissed him. The gentlest kiss John would've never imagined coming from this man who's usually so cold, depriving himself from any relations saying how love was only a disadvantage and...
Damn did it ever feel good.
Sherlock held his head between his hands as John held him tightly in his arms. Both their eyes were closed, enjoying the moment. Sherlock could feel John's lips grow into a smile when he decided to discover his mouth with his own tongue. The love John felt was indescribable.
He loved him, he wanted to stay there forever and feel him until the end of his days.
But he knew it was impossible.
John broke apart, leaving Sherlock in shock behind. "I'm sorry I have to go."
"John, John wait! I'm sorry!"
The solider made his way downstairs with the detective following. "I can't" he said. He was getting married, and all this scenery was just an illusion. He had to stop all this or people will definitely think he's insane, more than they previously did. It was already hard, now it became worst. He couldn't do it; he couldn't let everything going that way.
He stared at Sherlock "Sherlock, I can't..."
Sherlock stopped trying to follow. He stayed in the stairs. John opened the door to leave when he bumped in Mrs Hudson who was on the other side of the door. At least, it wasn't hard enough to push her down completely on her back.
"Dear John is everything alright?" She asked him worriedly.
"Yes, yes Mrs Hudson everything is perfectly fine, there is nothing to worry about and -"
"Dear! Sherlock!"
John turned around looking behind him, the detective had made his way closer to them "Mrs Hudson, it's a pleasure to see you again" he told her honestly.
"Wait..." the doctor interrupted slowly loosing his colours, becoming as white as a ghost. "Hold on... You can see him too?" he asked turning around to look at his partner...
Sherlock smiled warmly... A smile that meant everything.