John stood still for a moment, frozen while reading and rereading the last text several times. Allowing himself to hope, John rushed downstairs and flung open the door. Nobody was at his door. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, John looked from right to left frantically. He didn't want to admit it, but he was desperate to see any glimpse of Sherlock. John closed the door behind him and walked across the street in a dream-like trance.
Foolish of me to even believe this imposter for a second, John thought to himself. Though how he knew what Sherlock's first words to me, completely exact, I wish I knew.
John didn't want to go back to 221B so soon. He almost couldn't bear to be all alone in that empty flat. It was quiet without Sherlock, his ramblings as though John could follow his train of thought. John missed his bizarre experiments, and he would gladly welcome a random body part in the refridgerator. After reminiscing for about half an hour, John decided he'd better go home. Wouldn't want to worry Mrs. Hudson.
As John began the trek up the stairs, he couldn't help but feel on the verge of a breakdown. Pausing for a moment before opening the door, John felt the urge to just...leave. To never come back to this place haunted with memories. Suddenly, the door opened from the inside.
"It didn't seem as though you would be coming inside any time soon, John."