Hi everyone! here's the next chapter! hope you enjoy it!
-XX- BellaD

John's P.O.V.

"Beep" Computer will shut down in 2 minutes, for more time please insert coins now."

I stood up and rummaged through my pockets, locating a penny I slipped it into the slot in the side of the internet café's computer before resuming my scanning through the online newspapers, the calluses on my hands snagging as I ran my fingers through my sandy blonde hair in frustration. Every day I searched and still I could find nothing that rung of Moriarty.
In a rare explosion of rage I punched the keyboard in front of me. Suddenly a window popped up, some add about people who supposedly earned obscene amounts of money by telling their story or something ridiculous like that; but it reminded me of something.

I was standing in the rain, my face drenched with liquid from the atmosphere and tears from my eyes. I was alone and cold and was discovering that when a jacket said it was waterproof... well that only lasted so long. Standing, surrounded by unfriendly buildings, somewhere I didn't know. I had stormed out after a particularly heated argument between Sherlock and myself and now found myself lost and cold in the rain. Spying a surveillance camera on one of the buildings however, I had an Idea. I looked directly at the lens and mouthed silently " pick me up... please". I only hoped that Sherlock's paranoia about his brother controlling the government were well founded, though I believed they were. My suspicions were confirmed within minutes as a sleek black car pulled up besides me and the door opened to reveal the woman-whose-name-could-be-anything-but-Anthea.

From that day I knew for certain that wherever we were, we were being watched. With that memory flooding my mind I realised: if Mycroft was the big brother (no pun intended) of surveillance camera's, then Moriarty controlled the internet!
I quickly clicked onto an on-line forum and started typing, "Moriarty, you were right, I do have a heart, but I'm alone now so catch me if you can! SH" copying and pasting the message I posted it on fifty forums before my time ran out on the computer and I had no more small change. I sighed, satisfied, that should get his attention!

I walked out onto the street and got onto my bike. Revving viciously I raced through the streets. Aggressive and antisocial as I cut through red lights and stop signs. It was twilight by the time I reached my small bed and breakfast room. I stormed around the room in a mixture of pent up energy and frustration accumulated in weeks of confinement in my room and my mind.

My room was filled with the bone dry, uncontrollable heat of the space-heater in the corner. I put the kettle on and walked to the single window looking over London. I closed my eyes and for the first time since leaving, allowed myself to feel, submerging myself in the world around me. Resting my head against the cool window I saw the damp lights of the city through my closed lids, I felt the vibrations of each raindrop that pattered against the window, the clammy condensation of my breath on the glass. I could hear taxi's, a clock-tower striking the hour and the whistling trill of the kettle.

I poured the piping hot water into a mug, listening to that unique sound that freshly boiled water seemed to poses. Leaving my tea to brew I walked over too my bag and took out my journal, which, unlike everything around me, was messy and disorganised. The only place I could just let go and write. Poems stories and ideas were, sometimes messily scribbled on a napkin, sometimes neatly transcribed, upon page after page of the creamy paper. I flicked through the pages slowly until I came upon the object of my search, a single page at the heart of the book, the same position the object of the poem held in me. A sudden weariness engulfed me and, tea forgotten, my head lolled until it rested gently against the pages of the book.

Within minutes John was fast asleep;clasped against his chest, where once a teddy bear, then a woman, a gun, then a detective had lain. A portrayal of his life. Now he slept with but the remnants of those memories. Hurting when he looked behind him, scared at what lay ahead and, when looking beside him, only an empty space where his friend had once been.

Thanks to those who added me to their favourites etc, but I would really appreciate some feedback... I didn't get any reviews so I am going to propose a deal. Once I have 6 reviews of this chapter (doesn't have to be positive) I will upload the poem/written piece that has been mentioned twice now. Hope this may elicit some reviews? pretty please!
The last sentence is based on a quote I like : "When it hurts to look behind you, and you're scared to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friends will be there." Unknown
lots of love
BellaD