The flag took John's place in his chair.
Days passed and Sherlock had no idea what filled them. There must have been something, because surely he would have shot the wall clear through, or burned the flat down if he hadn't done anything, boring himself to tears.
He just couldn't recall what it was he did.
Mrs Hudson made him eat.
Mycroft watched him to ensure he did not take up drugs again, a habit he did not intend to.
Lestrade came by to check on him, offer him cases, none of which Sherlock accepted.
Molly came to see him, made herself a cup of tea, and sat down on the couch next to Sherlock, and cried for near an hour. Sherlock had no clue what to do, and just let her lean into his shoulder, and tentatively placed an arm around her that had completely fallen asleep by the time she left, still sniffling and apologizing.
Sherlock shook his head and bid her good bye.