I'm sorry it took so long for me to put up this chapter! I've had a lot of work at school at the moment (Argh, AS-Levels this year!) and applying to university and all that stuff has been stressful and time-consuming! Also, I was having trouble keeping John in character and having to ask advice from some lovely Sherlockians!
"John, are you okay?" A tear runs down his cheek but he doesn't reply to me. "John."
Another tear escapes and he opens his mouth to speak. No words come out.
"Oh, John." I wrap my arms around him and can feel his tears wetting my shirt. I stroke his hair and let him cry against me, moving my other hand down to rub his back in small circles. "It's okay, honey, it's okay." His arms wrap around me and I can feel his body shaking with sobs.
"Sorry, it's just…" John pulls away from me to try and explain but stumbles over the words and I shush him.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me. I don't mind." I push his hair back from his forehead and kiss him reassuringly. His cheeks are wet with tears and I can taste salt. "Come here." I pull him against me again and he rests his head on my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck.
"I just miss him so much." My heart drops as his words reach me. Sherlock, he misses Sherlock and he's not even gone. I tune out for a second, freezing with him in my arms and waves of guilt flood over me. Then I come back to my senses and resume my comforting. I murmur non-descript words of reassurance into his hair and run my hand absentmindedly over his back and shoulders. I kiss the top of his head, rocking him gently like a child until his sniffling subsides.
"It's okay to miss him." I sit back and look away from him: the despair in his eyes still too painful to observe. "You're allowed to miss him John."
He puts his arm around me, sensing sadness in me also, and I lean against him; taking his hand and intertwining out fingers. The momentary lapse in his perfected façade of cheeriness has ended but his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are flushed.
"I know I am, but it fades into the background most of the time. It's usually hiding right at the back of my mind and sometimes it just hits me again."
"You're allowed to feel like that John, it's only been three months. And it's common for people who are grieving to feel like this."
"I know… I know Ivy. It just… it…" His voice breaks and I feel him breathing into my hair.
"It hurts?" He nods. "Do you want to talk about it?" He gives a barely detectable shake of his head. "Okay."
A moment of silence.
"I don't even know what happened. Why he did it. It's so frustrating. And then I remember that's just Sherlock, he was a frustrating man. And I miss that, he gave me company and a reason to keep going and without him everything seemed slow and empty."
"I know what you mean."
"Part of me wonders why I miss him so much. He pissed me off more often than he made me laugh and he got me in trouble constantly. But everything is so different without him. I was so alone. And with him I wasn't."
I feel guilty again and curse myself. Snap out of it, I promised Sherlock I wouldn't tell him and I like him for him. I am not doing this because of Sherlock.
I pull him up from the sofa and start to lead him towards my room; hands still tangled together. Pushing open the door I turn to face him and he kicks it closed when we're in the room. I kiss him and tug at the bottom of his jumper, pushing it off over his head. Our lips meet again in a gentle and lingering kiss as I begin to unbutton his shirt, running my hands gently across his chest as he lifts my top off. His hands stray to my hips and in seconds our skin is touching and I've pushed his shirt off his shoulders. His hands slide forwards, fumbling at my belt when I move my attention to his neck; placing slow, soft kisses all the way up to his ear and whisper to him.
"You're not alone anymore."
So? Please, please, please review.