Life went on, John did not

by TheConsultantSociopath

"Sherlock…" "MYCROFT! What could possibly be SO important that you would risk expos…" "Sherlock, it's John." A year after The Reichenbach Fall, John goes back to war. When tragedy strikes, Mycroft calls in the very much alive Sherlock Holmes to see John in what could only be considered his last moments. Rated M for future mature themes. Johnlock mxm. Be forewarned.

2. Chapter 2

Authors Note:

Hey Guize, sorry for the wait. I have an almost 3 month old son, so my day can get a little crazy trying to do chores, take care of baby, and find new clients for my job. Hope this can get you through another day or two 3- theconsultantsociopath

Floating.

John was floating.

Where is Sherlock? Sherlock NEEDS to be here. I'm dead, where THE HELL is he?

Slowly as John sought Sherlock, he began to realize that not only was Sherlock not here, John did not believe he himself was dead. He hurt to much. John could not open his eyes, or move, or even feel his own breathing. But he could feel the PAIN. It was everywhere at once. As if his whole body had been put through a meat tenderizer. But his mind, his mind was free to roam and this, John realized, is where the feeling of floating had come from. However, another feeling was creeping in unannounced. It was a dull, cloying feeling that John took a moment to understand. John was disappointed. How sad that he be disappointed that he had lived. But understandable as the doctor thought on it. When he had felt the bullet rip through him, a kind of peace had fallen over him, believing he would soon find his consulting detective. Now, John knew that he would have only recovery to look forward to. Joy.

It occurred to John as he float in his own mind that he might be a bit more entertained if he, like Sherlock, had a mind palace. As it was, it was like a great expanse of white noise that had no particular form or pattern. John began to wonder if he could think hard enough to change his surroundings. Even as he thought that though, he found himself suddenly in 221B again. Sitting in his chair, he stared at the chair across from him. Empty. That same empty chair had tortured him for a year. He had never had the heart to move it. And so, he had sat and stared. As John stared at the chair in his mind he had a wonderful thought. If he could imagine himself back in this place, could he possibly….

John nearly jumped out of skin when he looked up to see none other than Sherlock Holmes, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled under his chin. As it was, John simply went completely to tears.

"Really John, don't cry. I absolutely cannot be seen with a man who cries." The indignation in Sherlock's voice was uncanny. John thanked his memory for keeping such a good account. His tears slowed to a stop as he looked Sherlock over. He was in his purple silk shirt, tucked into black trousers. John looked up to focus on Sherlock's face. Oh how he had missed this face. As John studied his, Sherlock remain still and pensive, looking almost ad he did when he immersed himself in his mind for those long hours. Without making the conscious decision to do so, John began to speak.

"Sherlock… I… When you… Left, there was so much that I never got to say. So much that I've held inside and it's eating me up. I, I just want you to know…" John paused, gathering his steel to confess to this imaginary man. "I want you to know that I love… Loved you. With all my heart and soul. It started the night I shot a cabbie for you, and grew exponentially over the years. I was afraid to tell you, because I was afraid if you knew you would make me leave. I knew you were not really into relationships, but I would've loved to be able to call you mine. I just…" And here, John broke and began to cry in earnest once more. " I miss you so fucking much! WHY Sherlock?! Why did you do this? How COULD you? You LEFT me!" John could no longer form words at this point, and simply sat, sobs rocking his entire body. Some distant part of himself told him he should be ashamed, but the much larger part was sighing a breath of relief for finally being able to say these things, even if it was only really to himself.

Being upset as John was, he did not realize that his Mind Sherlock had moved, and was now kneeling in front of him, his face just inches from the broken man's.

"John Watson… I…. I love you." Mind Sherlock whispered, freezing John completely. The unbelievableness of what had just been said put a crack in the faux reality john had been operating under. "John, please, John, I'm here. John, HEAR ME." And with such strange words coming from Sherlock, the facade broke and shattered around John, sending him into total, bleak, darkness, his name in Sherlock's deep baritone echoing around him.