A/N: My first Sherlock based story it will be short miniseries of nearly 10 short chapters taking place after Sherlock's death, and focus's mainly on John's coping. It also takes place exactly a year later upon the first anniversary of his death. I go canon so understand I don't place them as either ship or not ship, it's really your choice how to take it. I'm sort of impartial to the whole thing...

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, and Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat are genius'.

Chapter 1: Nostalgia
He wakes up every morning in a simple haze, one where your in-between sleep. Where you can't distinct dream from reality and he walks into the main foyer a smile on his face."Sher-" He calls out instinctively but stops midway as it hits him and remembers that Sherlock is gone. For the past few months John had dreamt of Sherlock. He just dreamt of his same old annoying best friend who had committed suicide only a year ago and soon it would be the first anniversary of his death.

For months Sherlock's good name was smeared for all of London to see. It was relentless and even Lestraude even began to believe it too. Soon enough, Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective to ever walk the Earth was renamed as the greatest criminal mastermind to walk the Earth and John was his accomplice. He was sent to Scotland Yard for life but was bailed out by an unknown woman. As he suspected it was Miss Adler whom he had tracked down to her grave later in the evening. She had no explanation for her actions except she said to him, "You loved Sherlock as much as I did John. I know he wouldn't of wanted you to live the rest of your life like that because of his mistakes. Sherlock doesn't have friends John, he had one." They departed on those words and they haven't spoke again.

Now after all this time, all the lies and doubts that had been placed in his head. On occasion Mycroft would come around the old flat and tell John stories of Sherlock's youth and what a stubborn little boy he was. He would restore his faith for a while until he would half to move on. Nothing had changed since that fateful day, nothing had moved. Sherlock's science sitting upon the table, the skull on the mantle, the bullets holes still in the wall with the same yellow smiley face painted on the wall, and leaning to the side of his chair was Sherlock's violin that he would often play a bittersweet melody on when he was in one of his moods.

Sitting down at in his lumpy old chair across from Sherlock he poured himself a cup of tea that Mrs. Hudson would have ready for him every morning. Opening up the morning newspaper the first thing John sees in bold is the reminder of the anniversary of his death. He then tossed the newspaper quickly aside knocking over the pot of tea.

"Rubbish..." He muttered placing a hand over his mouth.

"I hope you're happy Sherlock! I'm up here dealing with all the trouble you caused while you're duking it own down there with the devil and Moriarty. I know you Sherlock, I know you must be having a ball." He chided towards the chair...

"Trust me, it was a blast but it's nothing in comparison to solving mystery after mystery with you."
The End of Chapter 1

Next chapter is coming up soo I hope you liked it. It's extremely short especially for me but I'm sort of warming up for a possibly bigger story. Please Review :)