Title: Coming Back
Rating: K+
Words: 282
No prompt, just writer's block relief
John wrenched open the door to 221 B. For a reason he could not fathom, he still lived here. It had been almost four years since his death, and the shot-at smiley face on the wall never did anything to soothe him at the random moments he was overcome with grief. In fact, it always caused him more pain. But he never covered it up. Despite everything it brought him, he couldn't bear to rid himself of the reminder.
As he stepped into the place, Mrs Hudson greeted him with a wide smile.
"There you are, John. I was beginning to wonder."
Odd. Mrs Hudson rarely kept track of when he was and was not home.
"Hello Mrs Hudson," John said amicably. "How are you?"
"Oh, lovely," she replied. "I'll bet you're exhausted, aren't you? Go on upstairs."
And with that, she pushed him up. He stumbled a bit, but managed to catch himself. Mrs Hudson was acting very strange today. John shook his head and opened the door. Age tended to do that to people.
He glanced around the room. Froze. There was a strong thumping in his chest as he stared at the armchair. Or, more specifically, the man in the armchair. His curly dark brown hair hung around his face. His face was thin and pinched, dark stubble around his chin. His thin fingers were wrapped around a violin John had refused to touch for years.
John felt as if his heart would burst out of chest. Was he hallucinating? He longed to walk to figure and wrap his arms around his shoulders, just to make sure he was real. Deep dark eyes looked up at him.
"John."
"Sherlock."