Chapter 2
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to BBC, no copyright infringement intended.
I know right! Chapter 2 already, I'm not going to lie, I did have to rewrite this twice because I didn't like the way that it ended. But I just couldn't wait any longer.
My shout-out goes to xSommerRegen who gave me my first (EVER) review, without you I probably wouldn't have carried on.
A/N: Just so you know, I'm changing the basis of the story; it was originally going to be about John's life without Sherlock. But now I'm leaning towards John coping with severe trust issues with Sherlock, and there will be Johnlock (I'm sorry but it just has to be done!).
CONTAINS: Suicidal references, and angst and angst and angst.
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He had so much hope riding on that one word. The deep timbre in the voice that spoke it urged John's heart to pump harder and all his muscles tensed ready to run at Him.
The last few months of anger and hurt dissipated at hearing that voice. John turned slowly and came face to face...
With Mycroft Holmes.
Mycroft saw all the hope and anticipation crash in John's face and saw all of his grief flash in those deep blue eyes. The unfathomable anguish that reached right down into John's essence was glimpsed before the walls were put back up.
John couldn't believe his foolishness. Of course it wasn't Him, He'd died. No amount of wishing or reminiscing was going to bring Him back. It's just that their voices sound similar, so like each other, that it physically hurt John's heart just to listen to Mycroft.
"Mycroft," John gestures into the flat with his left hand, "come on in, by all means. Cup of tea?"
The elder Holmes brother, noting the smashed blue china, declined a beverage. Instead he sat on the couch and rested his umbrella on the coffee table; his eyes scanning the room, not unlike how his late brothers used to do so, taking in every tiny detail. But most importantly, the reflection of Sherlock's best friend in the mirror, hanging above the mantelpiece.
"How are you feeling, John?"
John rolled his eyes at the inane line of questioning Mycroft was pursuing. Especially as Dr Watson knew that Mycroft was perfectly aware of how John was coping, owing to the fact that he had yet to remove all the bugs that lay 'hidden' around the flat. In fact, John thought, he probably knows how I'm doing better than I myself. When the curt reply was made about John's general mental stability, Mycroft dutifully ignored it.
John stole one last glance at the wall before turning to face the elder Holmes. He noted how straight Mycroft was sat upon the sofa and in anyone else John would have said that it was from discomfort. However, having been subjected to Mycroft before, John knew that it was just how he presented himself. It must work well in the British government, to always look as if you have absolute control.
John limped round, back to his favoured, ugly armchair and eased himself down.
"What do you want, Mycroft?" his voice sounding tired and weak. He knew exactly why Mycroft had come. It was the same reason every time and yet they still tried to convince each other that it was necessary for these personal visits. He was only here to make sure that John wasn't planning on throwing himself in front of a cab. (He'd only tried it once, and the cabbie hadn't even been going fast enough to cause a broken shoulder – though there were some pretty impressive bruises for a while.)
"I just thought I'd come and see you John, can't a friend drop in on you anymore?"
"Mycroft," John sighed, "why do you continue this charade? I know you're only here to make sure that I haven't thought of a new way to kill myself. Out of some sort of misplaced chivalry and concern for your brother, you continually feel the need to keep an eye on me. Isn't it enough that you have the entire flat wired? I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, I do not need your charity!" John's voice grew steadily louder and filled with more pent up emotions, whether it was anger or just plain grief Mycroft wasn't sure. This was the first time that John had properly yelled at him since the day of the funeral when Mycroft tried to get John to leave the flat. But today something inside Dr John Watson had broken. Today was the first day when Doctor John Hamish Watson finally accepted that his best friend wasn't going to come back.
Mycroft could see the subtle shift. He could see the acceptance and the melancholy loneliness that it brought. He could see the death of John Watson before his very eyes. Sherlock would never have forgiven him for this. John's defences suddenly returned as Mycroft was watching him. The despair carefully being hidden behind multiple layers of faked indifference, not dissimilar to Sherlock's own coping mechanisms.
"You don't have to stay now Mycroft. Your duty is fulfilled for the day."
The cold dismissive tone in John's voice shocked Mycroft. It was so different to John's normal bubbly, if ever sarcastic; delivery that he felt like Dr Watson had slapped him.
Mycroft Holmes stood abruptly and snatched his umbrella off the table so fast that John only noticed he had it when Mycroft had reached the door. John turned his head away, unable to look him in the face, when he heard, "You aren't the only one who lost someone, John. Try and remember that."
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"Mrs Hudson?" John shouted as he trudged up the stairs. He paused on the second to last step trying to hear the endearing old woman's reply. When his ears ascertained that the lovely landlady was in fact out, John continued up into 221B.
The door swung open on contact. This was unexpected as John had been sure that he'd locked it on the way to work this morning. But his lack of sleep was making anything possible. Yesterday, John had tried to make porridge with Cheerios. Sarah had been working him hard lately, he knew that Mycroft must have had a hand in it, but he didn't begrudge her. In fact, the later hours meant that he had far more things to occupy his mind. John shook his head at himself, pocketed the keys and walked into the flat.
His eyes unwillingly flitted over to the violin stand in the corner, as they always did. The only remaining reflex from when there were still two people living here. John sighed before he could stop himself. He claps a hand over his mouth before any other involuntary noises escape.
It's been three years, almost to the day – only four days left (John was counting) – since Dr Watson had been left alone, and this year's anniversary was tipped to go exactly like their predecessors. Blotted out with copious amounts of alcohol, sat on the top of St Bart's, and debating the positives and negatives of jumping off exactly like He did.
John limped slowly into the kitchen; his leg playing up more than normal, as it always did this time of year. He reached out for his standby – the kettle, filled it and put it on to boil. He got out a green mug and set about preparing his cuppa. After limping to the fridge and getting out the milk...
John froze. Still with the milk carton in his hand and the fridge door wide open. He had goose bumps but it wasn't due to the cold air emanating from the fridge.
John Watson had never felt like this before, a massive bundle of nerves, not even Afghanistan had elicited such a strong reaction. His whole body was trembling with the generous amount of adrenalin pumping through his veins. John tries to take several deep breaths before bracing himself for the emotional onslaught that was about to come tumbling down.
John's right hand slackened its grip on the metal pole and he could feel his stability slipping away. The resounding clash of metal against the tile kitchen floor echoed resonantly through the Doctors head, the pounding in his ears reaching insurmountable decibel levels.
The 180 degree turn seemed to take an eon to complete, but must have only been a second.
The deep blue eyes met the silvery, grey ones.
A small raspy voice snaked out, "John?"
And that's when John threw the milk.
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A/N: Please, please review. And F.Y.I. the next chapter will take longer to be uploaded as I'm not entirely sure where this is going, but I will try my very best to get it uploaded next week! Much love :3