"Hey John?"
John looked up, smiling broadly at Sherlock. "Yes?"
"I was just thinking. It might be in our best interests to, you know, to well, not exactly be together."
John's heart stopped and his smile vanished. "Are suggesting we break up?" he questioned.
Sherlock nodded, but looked away, unable to meet John's gaze. John looked heartbroken. Millions of thoughts rushed through his head, but one caught his attention in particular. 'Is this my fault? Because I didn't say yes? Did I cause this?' he asked himself.
"It's not your fault. It's something else entirely," he heard Sherlock say.
John didn't care. He was ready to be sick. He should've known Sherlock was not okay. He should've seen it. Standing up from the side of the bed he'd been sitting on, he went to walk away.
"John. I'm sorry. It's just this..." Sherlock was cut off before he had time to answer.
"No Sherlock, it's alright. I understand. I just wish you hadn't lied and had just told me how upset you really were."
"John please. I really am sorry. I have my reasons and if you knew them, you would understand. Just understand this small thing for me," Sherlock urged John.
John took a deep breath, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. "It's fine Sherlock. I assure you. I just want you to know, that even though you may not love me, I still love you."
He left the room along with his heart with laid in a thousand pieces on the floor. Sherlock heard him climbing the stairs, and the creeking of his bed. He also heard his sobbing. Looking at the floor he let himself cry softly too.
"Trust me John," he whispered, "I still love you too. I'll always love you."
The next day, nothing really happened. Sherlock started some work on the case, but didn't get very far, mainly because every time he turned to talk to John, he wasn't there. It was hard. The man he loved. The man he adored and relied on and basically would do anything for, wasn't there. He knew he was up in his room still, but he was getting worried. Unlike Sherlock, he didn't really have a way of getting rid of stress. Sherlock knew this event was very stressful for him and was concerned that if he didn't get help soon something worse might happen.
Climbing the stair to John's room, he stopped short of the door, hesitant to knock. Deciding against, he slowly opened the door, panicking when John wasn't visable. He searched the room, still unable to find him.
"John? Are you in here? John!" he shouted tearing apart the room searching for him.
He found a note labeled to him, and opened it to find a photo of them torn in half. He felt a tear fall as he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Sherlock I'm sorry I said no. I didn't know it meant so much to you. I just wasn't ready. I'm so sorry Sherlock. I really am. I didn't mean hurt you and I still love you. I love you Sherlock so much. I will never love anyone else. I promise you. I'm only leaving because I don't want to hurt you further. I would do anything for you. Anything Sherlock.
Love, John
As he read the note and clutched the torn photo, he sank to his knees. What had he done? He was only trying to save him a heartache. But Sherlock hadn't saved him from one at all. No, in fact, he had just made it worse.
Suddenly Sherlock felt super impatient for Sharia Moan to kill him.
John had been wandering about the streets of London for hours now. He felt slightly guilty for leaving Sherlock without a warning or a goodbye, but he was genuinely upset. He had never been so hurt before at anything Sherlock had done.
Walking into an alleyway, he slid down the wall and just stared at a picture of him and Sherlock. Why hadn't he just said yes that night? It could've prevented this. If only Sherlock hadn't lied to him. Just tell the truth. That's all he had to do. He would've more than gladly broken up with him on better terms.
Black despair clutched his heart and he choked out a sob. He still loved Sherlock, he really did, but he was starting to wonder if Sherlock had ever loved him. As the tears fell, and his heart shattered, it seemed to be clear that he never had and never would.
Back at the flat Sherlock was dialing up his brother. When he answered, he let loose a small sob, making his brother even more concerned than he already was.
"Sherlock, is everything alright?" he asked.
"Mycroft do you, do you know where, where John is? I can't find him," Sherlock managed to say.
"I'll pull up some cameras. Just hold on. When did he go missing?" the soothing voice of his older brother asked. "Sherlock? Are you still there?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him since last night. It's all my fault Mycroft! All my fault!" he cried.
Mycroft inhaled sharply. "Sherlock, take a deep breath. I need you to remember. What went on last night? Did anything out of the ordinary happen? Was a client acting suspicious, was John really nervous, did Mrs. Hudson say..." he cut off abruptly by Sherlock.
"I broke up with him Mycroft. That's all there is to it. I broke up with him and now he gone and ran away. Please find him. I beg you please."
"Oh Sherlock. Of course I'll find him. Give me a few minutes. Where are you right now?" the eldest Holmes questioned. "Come on Sherlock. Answer me please."
"I'm at the flat. Will you come over? Please?" Sherlock begged.
Mycroft's voice held a certain regard of sympathy in it. "Of course. I'll be right over and we can look for John together."
"Thank you Mycroft."
"Anytime, brother mine."
Hey everyone! Sorry about taking so long to update! Thank you for the reviews and I hope you enjoyed! Please review!
~Jailee Holmes