How It Feels For Life to Stand Still

by the-notebooks-voice

Little song Drabble. I'll write more but until then here's one. John misses Sherlock. He couldn't be really gone, could he?

The Pretender-the Foo Fighters

John clenched his eyes shut, and could see the horrific scene flash in his mind like a slow motion scene in a movie. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. It had to be a lie. But he couldn't have lived. He had to have died. He should have surrendered. Accepted the lose of the game. Ran. Anything, but never jump! He couldn't really be gone. He was so different from everyone else. He wasn't just anybody. He was my friend. He was Sherlock Holmes. The great Sherlock Holmes. He was the one and only consulting detective. He was my flat mate. He Sherlock. I need him. He can't really be gone. He can't die. He's not human enough to die. He's a breed all his own. And being human in any way has nothing, even remotely to do with him.