Disclaimer: I do not own any of this! Sherlock and its characters do not belong to me and belong to their rightful and respected owners! Enjoy!
Chapter 1-Sign of Change
Stallion's Pub. 7:00 tomorrow night. Come John.
John stared at the small, glowing screen in his hand, sighing as he read the short and rather curt message. He knew who it was from without having to read further. The text belonged to Detective Inspector Lestrade, or as John now knew him, betrayer number one. It had been Lestrade's doubt that had hurt John the most, and the doctor knew that Sherlock had been at least surprised by the inspector's betrayal, even if he didn't show it. Sherlock never showed any of the pain John knew he was feeling when the fall happened.
At the onslaught of memories, John shuddered, and typed a message back to the detective and sent it.
No.
John went to go sit down, but within seconds his phone had lit up again. Looking at the new message, he got even more agitated.
I'll arrest you if you don't.
Typing furiously, John pressed 'send' and prayed Lestrade wouldn't respond. He didn't want to see the detective again, not when he knew that Lestrade didn't trust the one person that John revered more than anyone else.
You can't do that. I have nothing to say to you Lestrade, you made your position quite clear when you arrested Sherlock and threatened to arrest me. You didn't trust in Sherlock, therefore I don't trust in you.
After this last message, John's phone didn't light up immediately. John held the device in his hand, glaring at it, almost daring it to light up with another message, but the screen remained black. His anger turning into exhaustion, John leaned into the chair and looked around his flat.
He was still living at 221 B Baker Street, even though he had insisted in the beginning to Mrs. Hudson that he would be moving out. John had tried to stay at a hotel one night after the fall, but he had been plagued by nightmares the entire night; nightmares where Sherlock was falling over and over and as fast as John ran, every time he was too late to save his friend. After that night, John had moved back into 221 and had stayed there, trying to go on existing without his other half. His gun had looked promising at times, but John knew Sherlock would be furious if he killed himself. So for the past six months, John had lived in 221 B, working at the clinic, eating, and sleeping, almost as if he had put his life on auto pilot.
John's phone finally lit up again, interrupting his train of thought.
John, please. I feel terrible and it's killing me not to apologize to you face to face about this. Don't you think Sherlock would have wanted you to be the better person?
Looking at the text, part of John's initial anger reappeared, and without thinking, he fired off a reply.
You know nothing about Sherlock.
As soon as he had sent the message, John's rage turned into pity. Sherlock would have indeed wanted him to forgive Lestrade and move forward, even if the detective had betrayed them both. Lestrade did seem to be terribly ashamed of myself, as John looked through his phone at the previous messages sent by the detective throughout the six months after the fall, to which all of them, John had replied 'no' to or not replied at all.
John, I know you're hurting right now, can we talk?
No.
John, let's get drinks and talk about this, I want to apologize.
John, we need to talk. Come have drinks with me, please.
No.
Sighing, John sent another text.
I'll be there.
A tear rolled down John's cheek as he looked at the violin placed on the chair next to him, beginning to collect dust. The doctor had done his best to push the fall and the raw pain that was coupled with it, out of his mind, but he had bad days. This so happened to be one of them. With the fall fresh in his mind from texting the Detective Inspector, John crumpled into his seat, tears beginning to streak his cheeks. As his sight of the violin became blurred, John whispered into the desolating silence around him.
"I miss you Sherlock. Come back. Please, come back..."
The next morning, John awoke to find himself still in the chair, with a rather stiff neck. Looking at the clock, which read seven o'clock in the morning, John sighed when he realized his engagement with the Detective Inspector in twelve hours. Slowly getting up, John made his way over to his room, pausing at Sherlock's door. He tried to hold back, but couldn't, and ended up opening the door, checking to make sure the detective wasn't there, like he had done every morning since the fall. When he saw the empty bed and the even emptier room, John's shoulders slumped and he went into his room to get changed.
An hour later he was at the clinic, getting his office ready. His body hurt from sleeping in the chair, but he pushed through the stiffness as he walked around the office, waiting for his first patient. Sarah had said good morning and had given him a small, hesitant smile like she always did. Originally she had been furious with him when he had broken up with her, but for the past six months she had been doing her best to be sweet around John, even though he knew she believed that Sherlock was a fake.
The door opened just a crack, and a pale, blond woman poked her head into the room.
"Dr. Watson?" she asked softly. Whirling around, John nodded and ushered her in. Opening the door and scooting into the room, the woman gave John a small smile and sat down. After closing the door, John grabbed his clip board and sat opposite from her.
"Good morning, Ms...Morstan," John read. The woman nodded and smiled wider, holding out her hand.
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Watson."
Taking her hand, John noticed a small golden bracelet around her wrist. It was a simple chain bracelet, except for on top there were two diamond m's next to each other.
"Pretty bracelet," John commented, hoping his compliment didn't sound forced.
"Oh, thank you, it's my initials," Ms. Morstan explained. "Sorry, I should have introduced myself, I'm Mary Morstan."
"Ah yes, Mary," John looked at his sheet. "It says your here."
"Oh yes, I suppose it does," Mary replied.
"And you've come in today for, just a check up?" John looked back at Mary, who nodded again.
"Alright well, let's get started then."
Most of the check up went on without excitement. John checked Mary's eyes, ears, nose, weight, and all other aspects. She was fine, no health issues whatsoever, and in good shape. John occasionally noticed Mary looking at him out of the corner of her eye, but he paid no attention to it. He just wanted to get this day at the clinic over with so he could meet Lestrade and be done with the whole ordeal.
John had just finished asking Mary if she had any health questions, to which Mary replied no, and he was about to get up to show her out when she asked,
"So how are you, Dr. Watson?"
Looking from Mary to the door and back to Mary again, John shook his head confused by the question.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Mary gazed at him with a knowing smile and repeated herself.
"How are you, Dr. Watson? It's been six months."
John was hit with a wall of pain as he understood what Mary was talking about. Sucking in a breath, he nodded to Mary and got up before he elicited any other reaction. Opening the door, he motioned for her to leave, not wanting to talk about it. Getting up, Mary gathered her things, but approached John, not the door.
"Not to worry John, I suspect him to be home soon," Mary said this like she was telling John that he would receive a package any day now. Clenching his fists and trying not to be rude, John asked,
"What do you mean?"
"I know you believe he was real, John," Mary explained. "As do I. I understand him, I know his methods, and I know that someone like him would have thought ahead and planned for the events that occurred."
"Oh you understand him?" John asked incredulously, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice. Sighing but still smiling, Mary continued,
"It is obvious Moriarty made Sherlock jump, because Sherlock's suicide would have completed Moriarty's plan. Still, Sherlock would have figured it out and therefore would have found a way to escape death. I told you, I think like Sherlock."
"Really, you think just like him?" John hissed, bewildered and angered, realizing that this woman was just playing with him. He was so frustrated with people, giving him pity or hatred or confusion because of his faithfulness to Sherlock. No one understood Sherlock like John did, so why did they pretend like they did?
Silence ensued after John's snap, until Mary whispered quietly, "Do you like your new tea?"
"What?!" John asked, exasperated, now completely confused.
"Your new tea," Mary spoke. "Your lips are slightly black around the edges and your breath smells of tea, but the brown marks that are very light on your lips that could only come from drinking the same brand of tea every day for a long time suggest that you don't usually drink the tea you drank today. The wrinkles in your pants suggest you've worn them before without washing them, and there is a bulge in your left pocket with the corner of a receipt poking out. So, you went to the store a couple days ago and bought new tea. Do you like it?"
Shocked, John dropped Mary's file, his mouth wide open. The papers collided to the ground, but neither of them noticed. John was still gaping at Mary, who looked at him sheepishly, before handing him a small piece of paper.
"In case you ever want to talk," Mary smiled once more, and then scooted out of the door. Looking at the paper, John gasped as he saw the number scrawled across it. He stuffed the paper into his pocket, and with Mary still fresh in his mind, he bent down to pick up the papers, stopping when he picked up the paper with Mary's picture on it. Her blonde hair and pale skin didn't match her brown eyes, but John wasn't focused on their color. He could see that look in Mary's eyes, the look. The look of mischief, the look that told the world that the eyes that held that look knew anything and everything.
While John was looking at the picture, something Mary said popped into his mind, and after this encounter, he couldn't decide if he believed it or not.
Not to worry John, I suspect him to be home soon.
So glad to have finally started this! Let me know what you think please, and if you like where this story is going! Next chappie has Lestrade, John, and...Sherlock!
