A/N: Hello, hello and welcome to my first Johnlock fic! Hope its okay, and I unfortunately do not own Sherlock, its property of the BBC I dont own Benedict either, much to my disappointment :-( Hope you enjoy and please review!
*Bam* *Bam* Gunshot blared out, men screamed in agony, loud bangs echoed, the sand was everywhere, blinding, confusing then there was blood. A brilliant scarlet against the gold of the sand. Bodies littered the ground. Now all was silent. He could see his comrades, lying dead. Bleeding. A feeling of uselessness overwhelmed him. They were turning towards him, dead eyes staring, lifeless, accusing. "No," he whispered, "No." All the eyes staring at him were Sherlock's, "No! John yelled, he had to get to Sherlock, Sherlock was falling! "Sherlooock!" He yelled…
John awoke panting, drenched in sweat, his flatmates name still on his lips. Ex flatmate, John reminded himself. He flopped back down onto his pillows, staring up at the peeling white paint on his ceiling. Sherlock was dead. It still sent a pang through his heart. It had been a year but John could not forget. John could still see the bloodstains on the pavement when, for everyone else, they had almost washed away. He had failed him. John had failed his best friend. Moriarty had done this. Somehow Moriarty had made Sherlock do this and it was all because John wasn't there when Sherlock needed him.
John sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as his feet came into contact with the cold tiles. He missed the flat, 221b baker street. He had moved out after Sherlock died. Too many memories. He wrapped a dressing gown around himself and padded into the kitchen. He looked around at the spotless kitchen and frowned. It wasn't homely enough, no dirty dishes lying around, piles of clean dishes not yet put away, teacups, and mould experiments ly..no. He wouldn't think of that, it was to close to the topic he was trying hardest to forget. 'I need a job,' John decided, stroking his moustache, the corners of John's mouth lifted in an amused smile as he mused, "What would Sherlock say if he saw it."
"Something about getting rid of that furry caterpillar, sitting on your upper lip."
A deep baritone sounded from behind him. John leapt to his feet, turning to face the owner of the voice, the person he had never expected to see again. "Sherlock!"
A/N:Kay, a very short fist chapter just to get the story going, in the next chapter their will be an angry John, a punched Sherlock and a heartfelt apology. To warn you, as the story goes on the rating will go up nut if you dont like that i will warn you and you can skip the chapter. Please review! Thank you
-Lightscript