I don't own the characters :P
Last chapter :) Thanks to everyone who read & favorited & followed & reviewed the story! I really appreciate it (this being my first fanfic and all)
It's short & sweet! I hope y'all enjoy!
Two months.
He doesn't know how he manages to survive.
Everything is still the same.
The skull on the mantle.
Ms. Hudson's cooking.
Taking cases.
Solving cases.
And yet everything is different.
John's chair stays empty.
Ms. Hudson just can't get the tea right.
The pitying looks at the Yard.
The lonely cab rides home.
Everything is fading to grey. Sherlock tries to hold on, for the sake of Mycroft, Molly, Ms. Hudson, Lestrade, but he's teetering on the edge of depression. He takes the cases, even the simple ones, to try to stay occupied, but he misses his conductor of light.
He misses John.
It's raining. Sherlock doesn't know what possessed him walk home from the Yard today instead of taking a cab.
As he hurries home, he stops at the sight of a little girl with a cane, carefully jumping in puddles. The man holding an umbrella above her is wearing a black jacket with a checkered collar peaking over the top.
Sherlock's vision tunnels towards this domestic scene. The girl obviously cares for this man. He's not a family member and has been absent for a while, most likely about two months, she's not entirely comfortable around him, but she trusts him. He is weary, just came into town, she was the first person he sought out. She is comfort and consistency to him.
"Janine." Sherlock croaks out. They both turn around and Sherlock's heart stops. No, that's wrong, Sherlock's heart starts beating again; it's been so dead, so quiet for the last two months. After the destruction of city hall, Mycroft had told him that Jim Moriarty's body had never been found. Sherlock remembers nodding absently. Hope was such a cruel thing, a million times harsher than despair. He would know. John Watson was gone and he wouldn't hold on to him this time.
But yet, Sherlock realizes he has been harboring hope all this time. It hurts when he looks at him. Those navy eyes, the stubborn set to his chin, the way he holds himself as if he's been in the military. Sherlock wants to shut this man out. Doesn't want him working his way back into his heart. But Sherlock knows he never left.
The man gazes back at him, and steps forward, taking care to ensure Janine still stays dry under the umbrella. He extends his hand.
"I'm John. John Watson."
Again, let me know what you think! I really like the open-ended conclusion, but if I get enough reviews/comments, I'll post a bonus chapter that outlines why John decided to be John Watson instead of Jim Moriarty, go into more depth about the Sherlock's two months without John and what it looks like 1 year from now!
Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers & everyone who read the story! I hope you enjoyed it!
Over & out!