John buttoned his coat. Another week down. Mycroft had a point, he couldn't simply live his life this way. He couldn't continue this silent countdown, this sick anticipation of seeing Sherlock again. He'd seen the body. Sherlock wasn't coming back. And John was growing worried that the countdown wasn't to seeing him walk through the door, but for the day he himself took his last breath and woke up in some afterlife with Sherlock. But that wasn't practical. John walked towards the door.
Lunch with Mycroft wasn't so difficult. He could manage it if he tried. He touched his fingers to the door handle.
"Going out?" Mrs Hudson asked.
John smiled weakly.
"Yes," he said.
She smiled at him.
"Sherlock would want you to go," she said.
"We weren't a couple, Mrs. Hudson. It's just lunch," he said.
She smiled a knowing smile. John felt.. something. He hadn't felt much in awhile.
"I miss him too," she said.
John smiled tightly and opened the door.
He made his way to Mycroft's without much fuss. Anthea was there to greet him. He nodded at her and wandered up the winding stairs.
"John," Mycroft said.
"Why is your house so big?" John asked.
"You could do with the exercise," Mycroft said.
John stepped back slightly and winced.
"That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?" Mycroft said.
John shook his head.
"You're not very good at people," John said.
"That's not incorrect," Mycroft allowed.
John looked around.
"Sit on the chair just there," Mycroft said.
John obeyed.
"Why am I here?" he asked.
Mycroft paused.
"You're here because you need to find who you are without him. You've forgotten," Mycroft said.
John noticed he was very careful to never say "move on"
He looked around the room and let his eyes focus on a hat. It had a pom on the top. John wondered why he didn't bring a hat. It was getting colder."I'm sure you know by now, he and I," Mycroft said.
"You can say the name," John said quietly.
"Sherlock didn't do this alone. That I helped him... prepare," Mycroft said.
Helped him die, more like. John bit his lip.
"I promised him I'd look after you, John. I don't break my promises," Mycroft continued.
"I don't need looking after," John said.
Mycroft nodded.
"I won't break this promise," he said.
John looked at the hat again.
"Today you left the flat. Do you think you can go farther?" Mycroft asked.
"To?" John asked.
"To Sherlock's grave," Mycroft said.
John thought it was a reflection of his desire to hurt that he said yes.
Mycroft stood a respectful distance from John as he talked to the grave. He saw the slight movement of a black trenchcoat behind a tree. He nodded. Sherlock would be in touch. John would be ready to accept him upon his return. He'd done well. John turned around and gave Mycroft a small nod.
"Home?" Mycroft asked.
"I don't think I can go there just yet," John said.
"Anthea will take you wherever you wish to go," Mycroft said.
John nodded. He made his way to the parking lot. He was obviously disappointed. Mycroft wondered about that.
He stood in the same spot.
~look after him- SH
~Always.