A/N: Here's the second chapter. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or the song Wishing you were somehow here again by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
o/Singing\o
John Watson had spent the last three days in a state of a shock. He felt like he was surrounded by a thick never-ending fog, just wandering around, not able to find his way out.
He felt lost.
He didn't register any condolences offered to him or the people who tried to get some reaction out of him.
He felt numb.
He moved around like on an auto-pilot, only eating when Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade told him to. Only on the day of the funeral did it finally sink in;
Sherlock was dead.
o/You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered
You were once a friend and partner
Then my world was shattered\o
The realization sunk in and John felt pain like no other.
It was heart-rending.
Nothing like getting shot at. No. The pain he felt then was nothing compared to this. This felt like someone was cutting him in half with a sharp knife.
o/Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed
Somehow you would be here\o
This was longing.
He longed for Sherlock. His best friend, his partner and…
There were so many things he wanted to say to him. So much to tell. He never got the chance to thank him. Sherlock was his savior. He pulled him out of the misery he was in after getting discharged from the army. He gave him purpose again.
And John would give anything to see him even just once.
o/Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never would
Dreaming of you won't help me to do
All that you dreamed I could\o
John missed him so much.
He missed waking up every morning, knowing that Sherlock would be there lying on their couch plucking his violin, or deeply focused on some experiment, waiting for John to wake up and make him tea. He missed the violin concertos at 3 am, the mess in the flat because one of Sherlock's experiments blew up – again. He missed the comfortable silences between them, bothering Sherlock to eat or yelling at him for whatever reason – he missed even the various body parts in the fridge.
He missed their cases together; Sherlock's deductions which never ceased to amaze him; Dinners at Angelo's, who every time insisted to put a candle on their table – because it was more romantic.
o/Too many years fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die?\o
He missed everything about him. And yet, at the same time…
A part of him wished he could forget.
o/Wishing you were somehow here again
Knowing we must say, "Goodbye"
Try to forgive, teach me to live
Give me the strength to try\o
He wished he had never met Sherlock.
Maybe then he wouldn't miss him so much. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.
And he wouldn't have to say goodbye.
o/No more memories, no more silent tears
No more gazing across the wasted years
Help me say, "Goodbye"
Help me say, "Goodbye"\o
It was what everyone was telling him to do.
To say goodbye.
To let him go.
'It's okay to mourn him John, but you need to say goodbye and move on in time. That's what Sherlock would have wanted you to do', they said.
And John knew they were right; Sherlock would have scoffed at him for his sentimentally.
"Dull", he would have said.
So he tried.
For days.
For weeks.
For months.
But the pain never went away. The wounds never healed and the pain was just as raw as it was in the beginning.
And then he just stopped trying.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what you think.
The next chapter will be posted on Sunday.
- Dalnim