The lonely soldierChapter 2
AN: Hello once again :) here is chapter 2!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters :(
_xXx_
This was it, 16a Downtown Lane. I didn't know what to make of it. I was excepting an abandon warehouse, in the middle of no were, but I couldn't be more wrong. It was a casual apartment; it was a three level house that's been divided into flats – judging by the number of letter boxes outside. The house was Large, it had a bright, deep blue front door and two cars sat in the front drive.
I walked up to the door and rang the buzzer for 16a. After standing there for a moment or two I waited to hear Mycroft or his sectary's voice. "Hello?" a voice said. It was a voice of a man whom just woke up, and it sounded strangely familiar. "Hi, my names John Watson. I'm looking for Mycroft" I stated hoping that I didn't get the wrong address. "John?" the voice replied.
"Yeah" … The voice went dead. I started to worry but all my mind could think about was where I remember that voice from. "Hold on for a minuet, I'll come to the door." The voice said. I stayed there, thinking about that voice and just when I heard footsteps run towards the door, it hit me. That voice. The voice of such a clever man. The voice of the one person I've wanted to see for such a long time. The voice of, my love, Sherlock Holmes.
The door swept wide open and as I stood there in shock almost hoping that Sherlock wouldn't appear from the door. A man appeared from the darkness of the hallway. Sherlock Holmes. He was wearing his usual night clothes; the silky, dark blue night gown, "John!" he exclaimed. I stood there in silence. Not knowing what to do, what to say, not even what to think. I've spent the last twelve months thinking that this man. This remarkable, clever, supendus man was dead.
"John?" Sherlock asked with a hint of worry in his voice. I stood there, as frozen as Jack Frost and all I was able to do was roll my hand into a fist and swing at Sherlock's face.
"Ouch! That hurt!" he complained.
"A YEAR!" I yelled.
"I know it's bad but let me …" Sherlock started but I interrupted him.
"A year, twelve months of being worried, scared, depressed. And twelve months of being alone" I said looking straight into his eyes.
"sorry." He replied starting to hold onto his cheek.
"Sorry? Sorry all you got to say? do you even realized what I've been through?"
"I know, sorry is not good enough, I should have come straight home but I couldn't"
"Couldn't? why not Sherlock?" I asked starting to get use of seeing Sherlock's.
"Maybe we should go inside; I think you need a cup of tea, and I need some ice" Sherlock joked. And for the first time in the last year, I smiled.
"Ok" I replied as I followed my friend into the apartment, still tender of his presence.
AN: So that's chapter two, please review/comment :)
- .Spoon