Hey there Sherlock fandom! This is my first contribution to you: a little post-Reichenbach 221B. As far as I can understand, a 221B is a little thingy with 221 words and the last one beginning with B. (Correct me if I'm wrong.) :D xxx And it's 221 words by Writer's point of view, not fanfiction's.
John checked his phone, slowly. He did everything slowly now, he had done for the past three months. He opened his messages and read the first one.
Come on, John. He wouldn't want you to lock yourself up like this. Look, I know it's hard, but you should start talking to people again. If not me, then Lestrade. Or Mrs. Hudson- I'll bet it's destroying her. I'm just trying to help you John. For yourself and for Sherlock. -Molly xxx
He didn't reply. He never did. He'd hadn't spoken to anyone in three months. Not one person. He listened to them when they spoke, and made them tea if they came around, but he never spoke to them. He just couldn't find his voice.
The next text:
I'm coming over, okay? I'm not asking. It's a heads up. -GL
Greg came often, but John hardly acknowledged him.
Within the next five minutes, John was in the kitchen, making Lestrade a cup of tea. The detective inspetor looked at his friend as he passed him the cup, sadly. Would he speak today?
"John?" Lestrade prompted.
Something in John clicked when Lestrade said his name. He saw Sherlock in the DI then, and for a moment it hurt, then John realised something needed to be said. John smiled at Lestrade.
"He was brilliant."