I've read a lot of fics where John is absolutely broken and can't carry on but I never agreed with that because he was a soldier, he was bound to have been faced with death of his friends before… Anyways, he wouldn't go anywhere until he cleared Sherlock's name would he?
This is sort of a prologue to other chapters that I've planned :)
Disclaimer : I don't own anything. Obviously.
The people who thought they knew John were under the impression that he would be devastated beyond measure at the death of Sherlock. Those who attended the funeral came armed with carefully thought-out words of comfort and condolences for the supposedly broken man who was left behind. Yet, John was the brave one, the stoic soldier in the still graveyard. He shed not a tear during the entire service and only let his voice waver as he delivered the eulogy.
Only when he returned to 221B Baker Street, closed the door and sat in his chair facing Sherlock's, did he let his feelings show. The tears rolled down the face of the silent, shaking man and he cradled his throbbing head in his hands. It wasn't that John thought of crying as a weakness but more that he only wanted to mourn for the loss of Sherlock in front of people who really knew his best friend.
After his tears dried up, John raised his head, sat up straight, unclenched his fingers and stood up. He only wanted to deal with everything after some sleep.
He approached the skull on the mantle, stroked its top and whispered a 'Goodnight'. The lights in 221B went out.