Dr John Watson sat back in his armchair, staring absent mindedly out of the dilapidated window of 221B Baker street, thinking. He did a lot of that these days, just thinking about the past and everything that had happened to him. Not that any of that mattered anymore. His life was falling apart in his hands, and so were the lives of everyone around him.

"Are you ok, Sweet?" Mrs Hudson's squeaky voice floated up the stairs, making John jump and knock his drink onto the rug. Mrs Hudson heard the sound of breaking china and rushed upstairs, John had barely moved since she gave him his drink.

"John-"

"Hmm?" John looked up at Mrs Hudson inquisitively. Mrs Hudson collected up the shards of the cup and crouched down beside John's ear.

"I know what you're goin' thr-"

"No you don't!" John snapped and glared at Mrs Hudson. "You have no bleedin' idea what's happening in here!" He tapped his head with his middle finger and sunk back into his chair.

Mrs Hudson recoiled at these words. "Well then," She sighed "Clearly I don't." With those words she turned and left the room.

John cursed at himself, that was another friend gone from his life. "I'm sorry Mrs Hudson," He whispered, he knew she could not hear him but he felt he needed to appologise. After all, that's how the men at Scotland Yard saw him, Sherlock's sympathetic foil.

"I'm sorry for the world."