John's Point of View
I didn't move from the bottom of the staircase, unable to go any further up. Why had I even come here? It was stupid.
There was a knock on the door. Mrs Hudson hobbled to get it, mumbling about her hip. "I understand the flat," an old man said at the door, checking a bit of paper of some kind. "221B is up for rent?" I put my fist in my mouth to avoid a half-choked sob escaping. Mrs Hudson was renting out the flat? How could she? I looked at her as she walked past me with the man.
I cocked my head to the side, grief momentarily forgotten. Mrs Hudson lead the way, "You must be Mr Jackson," The old man making his slow ascent behind her was the same person who was watching me when I'd come out of the therapist. A sadness filled my heart, remembering what the whole session was about.
I stared at the two walking up the stairs, knowing nothing was ever a coincidence, not when you lived with...Oh. I didn't.
But there was something familiar about the way the man walked. A strange youth underneath his wrinkled skin. He was similarly dressed to the cabbie that I shot to save-
I couldn't do this anymore.
Sherlock's Point of View
There was something odd about John's expression as we passed him. He was crippled over and his eyes were red, indicating that he had been crying and that he felt that he had no where that he could turn. I had to make sure that I retained my cover, and didn't make any deductions out loud.
Similar to how John told me that I should be when I was a witness in the Moriarty trial. So I'd sat in Molly's house teaching myself to temporarily make all deductions in my head. That way I kept in disguise. It was driving me out of my mind, which I relied upon heavily. The nicotine patches covering my upper arms helped. I had eight in total. Not the most I've ever had at one time, but it was either this, or I'd give the local drug dealer a call. There were plenty in the Homeless Network, and before I 'died' it would take every ounce of self-control to not go to them. I didn't have much self-control- I just acted on my observations, which were being restricted due to my predicament.
There was a gasp behind me as we were about to cross the threshold of my old flat. I turned around, staying in character, with my hunched figure. John's eyes were wide and his mouth was open slightly. I knew it took a lot to surprise this man. His eyes locked with mine.
AUTHORS NOTE:
Do you think that John would recognise Sherlock? Please PM or review this chapter so I can decide how to do the next chapter!
Thanks for reading!
