A/N: alright..first chapter, hope it will find you in a good place. please by pass the grammar mistakes I may have and be kind to me. Thank you
Disclaimer: non of the characters in this chapter belong to me, they belong to BBC
Chapter one: about right now
When John woke up the next morning, his eyes were feeling sore; when he touched them with his hands he could only feel the dryness of the corners of the eyes. Maybe it was just his illusion, but why does he feel like he was crying.
John knew that his current status is not very up to standard, sometimes when he was sitting in the sofa, staring at the empty black sofa across from him, he would find himself in a daze for the whole day. But he doesn't know how to change it. Or rather, he doesn't want to change it.
That driving force that could make him want to change is no longer there.
"John, do you have anything on the menu today?" Mrs. Hudson looked at John with worry. Oh, John had been in a state of lose ever since Sherlock's death, he was just getting better before, and now he's back to his old self. That dull look is so worrying.
"I have nothing, Mrs. Hudson." Looking at the worried look in Mrs. Hudson's eyes, John forced a smile to ensure her that he's fine.
"Then John will you have breakfast with me?" Mrs. Hudson just can't stop worrying, John is a child that doesn't like other people to worry about him, so he must have something he's hiding!
John can never refuse an invitation from the landlady that took such nice care of him. "Yes, it's my pleasure," He stood up, from the reflection of the mirror hanging on the fireplace he saw how pined he is, "Erh, can I just wash up first?"
"Of course, I'll wait for you down stairs." Looking at John's awkward expression, Mrs. Hudson went downstairs with a delighted smile on her face.
"I won't be a minute." John answered her.
John went downstairs to have breakfast with Mrs. Hudson. Across from the dining table is a small TV which one could watch when eating.
It's currently turned to Morning News. The anchor is reading out the statistics of the past half year's rising crime rate, "If this continues, I suspect it's a bright decision to move out of London."
The scene cut to a reporter interviewing a shopkeeper who was just robbed, and then it increased to four smaller shots with all four reporters interviewing a sufferer. Then the shots got smaller and more.
Staring at the screen covered with suffers of crime, John said to Mrs. Hudson in a serious tone, "Mrs. Hudson, let me accompany you when you go out."
"Oh John, I don't need your protection. I can shake the whole of England just by myself."
Mrs. Hudson felt disapproved to John's serious tone of voice. As a widow lady, how to live life safely had already became an instinct, although when Sherlock was there life had always been a little bit more exciting.
"Oh, Mrs. Turner from next door had a new tenant, he is a nice man. John, would you like to meet him?" Although being single-minded is a good thing, but it's not a good thing to keep John thinking about Sherlock all the time, Mrs. Hudson thought finding John a new partner will do him good.
"Mrs. Hudson, I really don't need a new partner, especially when he is male." John can't help but sigh at the landlady's hundred first time's suggestion; everyone thought he and Sherlock were on to something, even after Sherlock's death. If this continues, he might actually become a complete singlist. John thought helplessly, putting the last piece of egg into his mouth with just a slight bit of anger.
"Are you sure?. Come on, John. Every time I see you sitting in the sofa staring into space, I feel like you are a depressed young girl, or a poor teddy waiting for his master to take him home." Mrs. Hudson began to clean the dishes away when he saw that John had finished, whilst muttering. "Sherlock won't blame you, he will be happy to see you live a happy life. I swear, although Sherlock was a wayward and weird person, but he is a good man, especially to you, John. But you can't continue to be down like this. Just like my husband, although I hated him, but I can't deny that we once had a period of happiness."
When Mrs. Hudson felt the dreadful silence floating in the air, she finally realized that she had said the wrong thing, turning to say sorry to John, she shouldn't have poked at John's wound.
But to realize that John had already put on his coat, ready to go out.
Changing to a smile and keeping down what she had wanted to say, Mrs. Hudson said, "Be careful when you go out John."
Checking to see what he had forgotten to take, John looked up and saw Mrs. Hudson's smile full of regret, he smiled and kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek, "Mrs. Hudson, I don't blame you, trust me. Your idea is wonderful, maybe…" Knowing Mrs. Hudson's good will, but not being able to say anything to comfort her, John can only let his words muffle.
Before he had met Sherlock, he had always thought he will find a nice woman to marry. But after he had met Sherlock, he found that he doesn't know how to get himself to continue.
Sherlock died because of him after all, when he got Lestrade's message, the feelings he finally managed to sort out dropped lower than ever before.
Entering the doors of the therapist.
John had always had a good feeling about the black women that was his therapist. However this good feeling only stops to the extent when she's not trying to cure him.
"John, how's your blog recently?" The therapist asked.
"Good, it's all good." John took a deep breath, trying to make himself appear less tense, then answered.
"You wrote only about some small things again, right?" The therapist asked again. "You just wrote 'I still can't remove my guard', what does it mean?"
The therapist put down the pen she was holding, looking John in the eye and said slowly, "John, I know your best friend's death had been a huge shock for you, just like when I first told you to start a blog. A blog will help you express your feelings. Too much negative feelings kept bottled inside, even if you are a soldier, with exceptional psychological diathesis, I still have to say, you will break down." She stopped for a second and continues, "What you need is not pretend to be calm. To tell you the truth, except the first time you told me about your best friend's death, you had been calm every time you come to see me. But you tell me, are you really that calm inside?"
John opened his mouth a few times, but he didn't manage to say that 'yes'. He had always felt that the eyes that the therapist used to see him had already seen through everything, it made it hard for him to lie.
"Then, tell me, how long have you been having these nightmares?" The therapist gave up on asking John, and turned to another topic.
"You knew." John turned his sight away. That moment when the therapist asked him, John felt like the one he is facing was Sherlock. Even though Sherlock is no long there, he still felt like he's still by his side, playing with his curly black hair, using his laser like eyes, second killing everything in his way that stopped him from his case.
"It's nothing; I just haven't slept well recently. Must be the sirens at night, there's just too many of them lately."
"John," the therapist looked at him, and sighed. "Alright, John. If you don't want to talk about it, then let's change the topic, it's true that London's public security lately hadn't been good, what do you think is the cause?"
The therapist was kind hearted to change the topic.
But John was brought back into his own little world once again. Every time sirens go past 221B, it was because Lestrade had another case he couldn't solve, and then he would follow Sherlock into the darkest, randomest places of London in search of clues that would eventually solve the case. Thinking back, a smile climbed onto the corner of John's mouth.
The therapist looked at John, failing to hold off another sigh. John must be the most difficult patient she had; his guard is too high, untrusting and single-minded.
After his session with the therapist, John looked at his watch, it's only 1pm.
Today's London is a beautiful sunny day. The afternoon sun danced, making the street seem more alive than usual.
John heard the two women that walked past him talking about where to shop later, a young boy jumped around using the streets as his playground. The café beside filled with occasional laughter from people enjoying their food. A punk looking teenager skipped to the corner, shaking a bottle of red paint, he painted a huge letter 'M'.
John shook his head at this uncivilized behavior, once again remembering that time when they were following the case of the Blind Banker, where the community support worker thought he was an enthusiast of wall paintings
Sherlock always like to create troubles for other people, a whole series of them.
Walking around on the street, John felt lost; he finally decided to buy some flowers at the florist, caught a cab and told the driver to go to the cemetery. He wanted to go talk to Sherlock just for a while.
Getting off. Because of the rain a couple days ago, the whole cemetery is still surrounded by the smell of soil.
Taking a deep breath, John walked onto the grass. Finding Sherlock's gravestone was a breeze. He left the flowers by the gravestone and started dusting the stone very clearly.
John crouched in front of the gravestone; he finally started talking after a long silence, "I listened to the recording, yes. Lestrade thought it was necessary for me, so one day he came over, and told me to listen to the recording. I was surprised, Sherlock."
"Sherlock, I'm angry. For real! The first time I came to see you, I had already said I'm angry, very angry. You jumped off that building with the reason 'for me' is utterly stupid."
"I'm a soldier, Sherlock. I'm not afraid of any ANY threats to my life. You shouldn't have…"
John felt that he couldn't continue.
"You shouldn't have died for me. I can't accept this. I know you will definitely hit back at me, telling me this is all my misconception. But this misconception is really my truest feelings, Sherlock."
"This is the feeling of guilt."
John buried his face inside his palms, he sobbed silently.
The cemetery is a place full of sadness, if people dwelled in the sorrow, they will never be able to walk out of its control.
When John realized, he discovered that he's legs are already numb from the crouch. He looked at this watch, it's nearly 6pm. Not wanting to make Mrs. Hudson worry, John jogged to the main road and caught a cab.
When he finally got back to 221B, he heard Mrs. Hudson's delighted laughter.
What happened? John thought, Mrs. Hudson hadn't had much happy times lately.
He opened the door, and traced the laughters to the first floor kitchen.
He saw a man standing with his back to him.
He's tall, with black curly hair, his laughters are deep, and he's wearing a nicely fitted black suit.
A/N: Thanks for reading, please review~~ m(_ _)m