There he stood in all his arrogant, intelligent glory. With that stupid hat upon his head, the collar on that coat turned up and with his friend by his side, he stood invincible, untouchable. It always seemed like that, even when they were children. He always tried to give himself immunity from the pain others tried to inflict upon him. back then, it was mainly verbally with the odd physical assault to add variety but not anymore. The people trying to hurt him now were hitting him where it hurts; they were targeting him through John Watson.
He was an abnormally normal bloke, a doctor, a soldier with an equally normal fiancé. A bit on the short side but smart. Not in the way Sherlock was, no. nobody could be that smart, apart from Mycroft. He was smart when it came to life, reality. He understood people's reasons for doing something stupid. he understood why they would target him. One of the few things he didn't understand was Sherlock. With all the danger he puts himself in, why would he willingly allow John to get caught up in it?
She sighed, shoving her hands in the coat that didn't belong to her but to a dead man. He was the only one who cared, in his own twisted little way of course. it couldn't be the normal way. no, that would be too boring for him. Seb cared as well, he was like the brother she never had. The two she did have hadn't contacted her in five years. what kind of family is that, where everyone ignores the youngest to the point that she could have died and they wouldn't have noticed? She had been tempted to do that several times in the past two years. It was too boring, always so dull without him. Seb didn't let her though. He tried his hardest despite knowing how she felt. They were the best of friends, him and Seb. You couldn't find one without the other being not far away.
Her brother's eyes met that of her own, widening slightly but never moving any more. No. that would make what he was feeling. Their eyes stared at the other for a few seconds before he broke the contact and continued being hounded by the press. His friend, his smart little friend noticed his pause and looked over at her, his brow furrowed a little in confusion. She gave a small smile, barely noticeable before turning away. She didn't need more contact with him than necessary, she just needed to confirm his survival.
As she walked away from 221b Baker Street, a chilly autumn gust of wind hit her causing her to wrap that borrowed coat around her tighter. There was a little part of her that wished that He was the one that survived, that he was waiting for her and Seb back at their house. Looking at the suns glaring rays, she, for the first time in her life, wished her brother was dead. If only he survived...
A.N. -Sorry, The Empty Hearse made me want to write and this is the start of it.