5 months after the fall: November
John woke up in his recliner to crisp November air streamed through the window that was still open from the night before. He checked his phone like always to check what day it was. He groaned when he read that it was thanksgiving.
After the fall, John decided that he could hold the annual Thanksgiving celebration. It was a yearly tradition with his friends to celebrate the holiday. Even though it was an American celebration, they still celebrated it as a time to talk and enjoy good food. Mrs. Hudsan, predictably, had greatly supported the idea, saying it forced John into social interaction. John had to admit it, he hadn't been out of the house for weeks and it was starting to affect his health.
His eyes stung from lack of sleep and he was running out of alcohol to combat his lonely mind. He had been spending his day either sitting in his chair doing nothing or pointlessly stalking sluggishly through his empty house, like sleepwalking.
John walked to his dining room and began setting the table. His mind wandered to the last thanksgiving he spent. He remembered sitting in the living room of 221B, laughing with all of his friends. They were busy playing a game of charades where someone just acted out Anderson as some deranged chimp/ T-rex combo while eating some of the best food John had ever had. John's mom was never the best cook, but Mrs. Hudson's family recipes made up for all the years of bad food. John stuffed bite after bite of stuffing and pumpkin pie into his mouth until he felt about ready to burst. Even Sherlock managed to clear his plate. It must have been the most he had eaten in over a month.
Sherlock.
He had been trying to avoid thinking about him. His grief and denial were slowly fading. Fading and turning into something...else. Something that he didn't yet comprehend. Anger.
John woke from his daydream to discover that while he hadn't been paying attention he had set the table all wrong. The silverware were all over the place at random angles.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! He cursed at himself. Stupid! Why did you let your best friend die without doing anything? There must have been something you could have done? These thoughts were like the devil's tongue slipping the message into his ear, and then his mind. Stupid Stupid! He screamed this thought in his head many times, the message growing louder and angrier with every scream. It got so loud that John subconsciously started whispering it aloud to himself. Just like in his head, He started saying the message louder and louder until he was spreading his pain with the whole world around him. Every part of him trembled as he grew hotter and hotter. This thought was the only thing that controlled him. It was the only thought he knew of.
STUPID STUPID STU...
Ding dong.
He was interrupted by the doorbell. Right, John thought, attempting to steady himself, Guests.
Taking a deep breath, he jerked the door open like ripping off a band-aid. His shocked eyes met the worried eyes of Mrs. Hudson.
John must have looked like he just saw a ghost. They stayed in that awkward position for a long time, just exchanging looks. Mrs. Hudson looked at John like he had just been diagnosed with the deadliest, incurable disease.
He slowly adjusted his glance to her hands where she was holding a small pie pan. He gently put his hands out grab the pan and Mrs. Hudson hesitated as if she thought that the pan was going to grow teeth and bite his hands. Gently, she placed it in his hands, not taking her eyes off the broken man in front of her.
He looked horrible. The bags under his eyes only got heavier every morning after the nights of little sleep. He had grown stubble that he was too depressed to shave and was starting to grow a small mustache. John placed the plate on the table near the door before turning back to face Mrs. Hudson. Before he could expect it, he was enveloped into a tight hug. She held him tightly against her chest, reluctant to let go, the way a mother would hug their child
Mrs. Hudson had been like a mother to John in many ways. She had openly welcomed john into her home and was always there to look after him and Sherlock when they weren't looking after themselves. She was like the mother he had never had.
John had never been a big fan of hugs. He never liked when anyone was concerned about him. Back when he was little, his family wasn't what you would necessarily call a "hugging family." She was hugging him so tightly, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He silently choked on her strong flowery perfume, trying not to bring attention to his discomfort. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the presence of Mrs. Hudon. After so little human interaction, It felt good to be held by someone else.
He welcomed her into his house, offering to take her coat and told her to make herself comfortable in the living room. Meanwhile, he busied himself in the kitchen, chopping up pieces of celery and dumping it into a bowl of stuffing. Making thanksgiving dinner was by far not an easy task but John was just happy to have something to take his mind off things.
The cooked and cooked, Mrs. Hudson helping occasionally. As time passed, the living room filled with people, spreading the noise of casual conversation through the crowded house.
The house itself was a mess. He definitely felt that he bit off more than he could chew. Boxes were stacked everywhere from his reluctance to unpack.
When he first moved in, he felt that if he didn't unpack, the new way of living wouldn't come. In some twisted way, his brain believed that it would bring Sherlock back.
He had recently accepted the fact and began to unpack some materials other than the absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, this was an extremely long and exhausting process.
Why did he agree to do this? he asked himself. He tried to answer himself that it was good for him but the thought was only like a whisper among the many other crazy things that shouted through his brain. Honestly, he had no idea why he was doing it anymore. He was just doing it to do it.
His loud mind chatted on as John worked silently with Mrs. Hudson with the feast. She didn't seem to mind his lack of speech as she worked diligently on preparing some of the vegetables. She hummed under her breath, a tune that John could not recognize.
John attempted to tune out his mind as he listened attentively to her humming. it was calm and motherly, running smoothly from note to note. Time passed minute by minute as more and more people filled the small house. He filled with a sudden embarrassment of the cluttered living area. Random boxes still littered the floor while shelves remained empty. How rude! the voice in his head yelled. He tried to ignore it as he chopped onions into small chunks.
With Mrs. Hudsan's help, the meal was finished in decent time and before long, everyone was squished together trying to fit around the small, oval table in his kitchen. John was about ready to pile food onto his empty plate before Mrs. Hudsan did the thing that John had dreaded since he had first planned the gathering; ask everyone what they were thankful for. The line started with Molly and he was set to be last.
After a while of the same answers like "This wonderful food and friends" and "My friends and family", It was getting closer to being John's turn. Everyone had obviously been swerving around the elephant in the room. It was a fragile topic that stood in the balance between a nice, relaxing dinner, and chaos. With every answer leading up to his, he was getting more and more nervous. What would he say? What was he thankful for? Certainly not his family. They hadn't been in communication with him since he left to join the military, a choice that they were not entirely proud of. His only real friend had died. That topic was too sensitive, too depressing for the day. He didn't want to ruin everyone else's good day with his troubles. He had already done it enough times. They had helped him so much in the past five months. He needed to move on. He kept lecturing himself to move on and stop being a bother. It sounded great in theory but there was one problem...he couldn't. For some reason, he couldn't get over life without...
JOHN
He looked up to discover that while he had been stuck in his mind, all the people ahead of him had taken their turn and all of their eyes had turned anxiously towards him. He took a deep breath as he struggled to think of what to say. Possible thoughts gradually came into his brain through quiet whispers. Home. Food. Friends who had helped him through this rough time. The great ideas were unfortunately pushed to the back of his mind by the negative ideas that overshadowed them, shouting over any other thoughts. The negative thoughts were the same thoughts that had been clawing at his mind since the accident.
Why didn't you do anything? It's all your fault. You could've done so much more. Could've been such a better friend to that sociopath that everyone else had been so quick to avoid. You're such a bad friend! More than that! You are such a bad person! How could you let this happen? Why do you have to ruin everything?
Suddenly, as he looked at the table of people staring at him, the food on the table way past getting cold, new thoughts filled his mind. They got calm for a moment. The calm in the eye of the storm.
No, He thought, How could it be my fault? I did everything I could! I even lived in a flat with that sociopath! I was the best friends I could be. I was there for him, even on the day of the accident.
That's when the thoughts turned from calm to anger. It was anger beyond anything John had ever felt before.
The accident! Why would Sherlock do something like that? Betray the friend that had always been there for him. The fragile, dangerous man that could not easily last long without someone to balance his need for danger and adventure.
John had always been an angry bomb ticking down the minutes leading to the explosion. Now, without anything to take out his anger, minutes had turned to seconds. The explosion had, unfortunately, landed on Thanksgiving. With all of the remaining people close to him around him, the bomb went off. At that moment, John Watson exploded.
His thoughts had finally clawed himself out of his mind after being trapped I the cage for months. His anger streamed out in angry blasts as it made its way through the room and all the people in it. He talked about just about everyone in the room, explaining how they had always been there for Sherlock in some way and how he had selfishly left them. He shouted his anger not stopping for anything. The only thing he could think about was yelling. Shouting for all to hear and share in his anger.
After a long rant as people exchanged annoyed glances, all of John's anger was finally gone along with his voice. His voice strained as he ended his speech with a hurt conclusion.
"This is why I can't say I am thankful for anything." He croaked, tears burning as they made their way up his throat like acid. "I'm sorry I wasted all your time today." John tried to ignore the exasperated faces as he stormed out of the room. He knocked over his chair in the process but didn't notice through the anger in his veins.
John stormed out the front porch. Without the Anger he had had in him for months, he felt empty. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Just loneliness. He just someone to be there on the doorstep with him, telling him everything would be fine. He knew that would never happen. He remembered their people around the table. They had delt with him for so long, why should they have to keep caring a depressed john? They had done their duty.
After the meal that John refused to eat, he watched as everyone got into their cars and left. They were returning to their everyday lives. It must be nice. thought John, Normal life. What is normal? John didn't even know.
All the cars were gone except for one as john sat alone, watching the sunset, preparing for a new night. John recognized the car immediately as Molly Hooper's. A small pink gerbil car with multiple bobbles hanging from the mirror in the car. What is she still doing here?
Molly had always been there for him. Maybe it was her random connection to sociopaths that connected to John and his need for adventure. He remembered helping her through her strong crush on Sherlock, giving her hints on how to talk to the almost heartless sociopath. She had always made john feel welcome when Sherlock often forgot. They had even gone out for dinner occasionally, talking about their lives before and with Sherlock. They held a special friendship that John could always hold onto when things got rough. With his selfishness, John had somehow forgotten about Molly. She must be upset about losing Sherlock, especially now that John knew how she felt towards him. It was unfortunate that John was the only one who will ever know about it. John will never know.
John heard a door shut and turned to see Molly standing shyly at the front door. He welcomed her out with a gesture and made room as she sat on the step next to him. He looked down at her hands. Upon observation, they were wrinkles and dry. She had stayed late doing all the dishes for him.
After a while of sitting awkwardly without conversation, John started bravely at the sky. He spoke in a soft voice as if he might say something wrong.
"I'm sorry I've been so selfish about this. You must be struggling with this too. You didn't get to tell him, did you?" He asked, finally trying to think about someone else, someone who was always there for him.
"It's alright," she answered, her words coming out quickly. "I know you two were pretty close. And no I didn't tell him." She avoided eye contact and John tell that she was hiding something. She had never been the best liar. John was tempted to pry but instead, he went easy on her, knowing it wasn't easy losing someone you love.
"This will be a thanksgiving to remember won't it?" said john, sarcastically. They both laughed before turning their attention back to the view.
Molly and John spent the rest of the afternoon in meaningful silence as they watched the sunset as the day turned to night. It was a new beginning but John still had a long way to go.
Hi, guys! I'm sorry this is really bad. I may end up changing it. I don't know. Tell me what you think. I didn't mean to make it sound like a budding ship but...It just happened. lol! I don't know if anyone's actually reading this but if you are, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry It took me so long to update, I've been busy. Please leave a comment about the story and what I need to improve on. It would really help me.
Thanks, Megan