licked its tongue into corners
john can't cope with an unfinished melody
You're not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson.
You miss it.
John loves running on rooftops. Really, this is his favorite part of the cases, and because it doesn't happen often enough, it remains his favorite part.
He never quite understands why, but when he tries to, he remembers the first night and thinks, no. i need it.
ooo
When there is no running on rooftops—case or no—John finds himself reflecting his flat mate, though in a milder manor. He goes out and stalks the streets at night, keeping to the shadows and not once looking up.
(If he looks up, he won't be able to look down and it's never the same without Sherlock.)
Sherlock knows that John longs for chases and thrills and rooftops, and surprisingly (really, not at all) never says a word. Because London pounding in their feet hands heart is an addiction, and neither of them wants the cure.
When Sherlock dies, John doesn't hurdle over rooftops for nine months.
ooo
But afterwards (and he doesn't know how it happened) something primal takes over and John is dancing spinning gliding over the empty spaces between buildings with London roaring beneath him and the stars smirking over him and when he's finally stopped, Sherlock is waiting at the finish line.
John is furious, needless to say. But after a week of shouting fighting hitting defending, they finally start to forgive (never forget). The disagreements turn to hugging laughing crying forgiving.
ooo
And then, racing.
