AN: Welcome back! If you're still here, congrats for surviving the feels :L
Enjoy!
Verse 2 – Sherlock
I'm here alone, didn't want to leave,
My heart won't move, it's incomplete,
Wish there was a way that I could make you understand
Sherlock is painfully aware of the hurt John is suffering; he cannot be seen in the area, but Mycroft took pity on him and granted him access to 221b's surveillance footage. Every second not spent tirelessly working to topple Moriarty's criminal empire finds Sherlock sat in front of his laptop, torturing himself watching his best friend waste away.
For John, every day has been the same since the Fall; get up, sit in his chair and pretend to cope, reassure Mrs Hudson that he is, in fact, OK, then retreat to bed and stare at the ceiling, occaisionally succumbing to exhaustion and being plagued by night terrors. But for Sherlock, there is only one constant in his days – his time spent with John.
For a supposed sociopath, it is surprising how often tears roll unchecked down his thin cheeks, silent promises to return and try to fix this broken man never far from his mind. He even prays to every deity he is sure doesn't exist in every language he knows – the same few words each time: Please, let him survive.
The Woman couldn't do it, but this quiet, unassuming doctor has made Sherlock beg too many times to count, and he doesn't even know it. A bittersweet smile pulls at the corner of Sherlock's mouth as he closes the laptop before stretching his hunched figure and going back to work.
When Sherlock's weary body eventually forces him to rest, the last conscious though in that vast mind is always the same silent message to his best friend: Keep waiting, John. I'll be home soon.
This single thought can be the only thing that keeps him going, and is always running in tandem with his plans of how to sever every last thread of Moriarty's web.
