John stumbled towards the bloody man lying on the cement.
"Oh God... Bloody hell... I... I know him..." He mumbled to the people trying to keep him away. "I... I'm a doctor..."
Suddenly everything around him went black, as if someone hit the lights. Then laughter came from around him, menacing him and echoing in the room he was in. He grimaced and clamped his teeth together, recognizing Moriarty's laugh. A beam of light appeared as if a light switch had been turned on from a room next to him. The walls were boards, and had cracks in them. Moriarty was sitting beside a tortured Sherlock. Sherlock looked at John, his eyes praying that John would kill him before he was tortured any more. Moriarty laughed again, this time much more cruelly than the psychopathic laughter earlier. He held a gun to Sherlock's head and John could not move. He realized that he had him tied to a chair so tightly that his wrists were bleeding. He grit his teeth even more and glared at him, then looked to Sherlock. He looked at John with pity, as if he was the one about to die. The statement is true though. He would die once Sherlock was shot by the devil himself.
"John..." Sherlock said hoarsely. "Close your eyes."
He did, because they all knew that he wouldn't be able to watch Sherlock die... Not again. Watching the love of his life die by stepping off a high building, killing himself, was enough.
The gun shot echoed through his head, and he opened his eyes, once again looking upon the scene of Sherlock laying on the ground, covered in his own blood, his brilliant mind no longer encased his skull.
Moriarty looked at him with a bloodthirsty grin and got up, tossing the gun aside. Moriarty walked to the chair, and pushed John's wrists down into the chair he was tied to as much as he could. John heard the snaps of his bones, but the pain of losing Sherlock yet again was overpowering his physical pain.
Moriarty laughed into his ear. "Maybe if you were with Karl none of this would have happened."
This got John's attention and he looked up at him.
"What the bloody hell would you know about that?!"
John sat up with a jolt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, eager to erase what happened in his dreams as much as he could.
All he could do was try to function, doing his routine as best as he could.
He checked his calendar for the day and was happy to see that there was no work today at all, except his therapist at one. Bloody hell...
He walked to the kitchen and prepared a simple cereal breakfast. He ignored the paper, knowing that if he read it he would look at all the cases and be reminded of Sherlock again.
Once he had finished his cereal, he tried not to make too much noise putting the dishes in the sink. He winced at the clinking of dirty dishes due to the hangover.
He leaned against the counter; taking in how messy the flat has gotten in the short time John had occupied it after Sherlock's... Well...
John shook his head and grimaced with the pain that accompanied his actions.
John walked to the couch to take a nap.
John woke up with the phone ringing, causing his head to burn, but he answered anyway. He cleared his throat, aware of how bad his throat had felt.
"Hello...?" He said sleepily into his mobile.
"Hello John. You missed your appointment. Again." Henry replied seriously.
John sighed, looked at the clock and noticed it was almost two. "I was taking a nap and just lost track of time."
Now Henry sighed. John recognized it as pity.
"You need to get back on your feet John. You promised me you would if you went back to being on your own." John pictured Henry crossing her arms here, trying to enforce that she was in charge, as Sherlock would put it. "And you're still drinking."
"Henry, it's fine."
"It is NOT fine John!" Henry yelled. John winced because she was too loud. "John, I want you to recover! Please, please stop drinking! Stop dwelling on Sherlock!"
"Do you want me to forget Sherlock?! How could I possibly forget Sherlock?! I cannot forget Sherlock, even if I wanted to! I do this because I want to remember him! I am not like you, Henry! I will not forget about Sherlock like you did when Clara and you split! I want those memories to last! I will not use regression!" John yelled back, but the moment he did he regretted it.
It was silent on both ends of the phone, and they both knew that John had stepped over a line that wasn't ever supposed to be crossed.
Henry hung up and left a tone that seemed to menace John.
He knew that he had to get himself out of this pit. Sherlock would not be happy about how John was living; he would be as annoyed with him as he was with Anderson. But John found it impossible to remove Sherlock from his head. He found it crazy to do that, especially since Sherlock was a genius and most definitely the smartest man in the whole world.
("The things you wanted to say; say it now.")
John took a deep breath in and out, doing an exercise that his therapist had told him countless times, but always seemed ridiculous, but right now, it actually helped.
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock burst in through the old warehouse's door. Mycroft looked up at him over his newspaper. His legs were crossed, and he was sitting in a foldable chair.
"Hello Sherlock." He said as he folded it back up, tossed it aside.
"I got information." Sherlock said, casually shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Yes?" Mycroft fiddled with his umbrella, looking at Sherlock expectantly.
"But before that, I need to ask you a serious question."
Mycroft looked startled and surprised that Sherlock had a question. Sherlock never needs advice.
"Ah… Alright." Mycroft stood up from the chair and took some steps towards him.
Sherlock looked at the walls surrounding him, as if inspecting to make sure no one was around to hear that statement. Mycroft leaned against his umbrella, knowing that eventually Sherlock would say something. After a delay, Sherlock finally looked back at Mycroft. "During the interrogation, the man said that John has… Feelings for me."
He stared at Sherlock, now seeing the nervousness in his actions. "What is your question, Sherlock?" To Mycroft, John liking Sherlock was nothing new.
Sherlock looked anywhere but at Mycroft. "Is this the truth?"
"Obviously Sherlock."
Sherlock looked in disbelief at Mycroft. "If this is a joke, Mycroft…"
"It is not a joke." Mycroft said seriously.
Sherlock walked to the chair, sat down, and put his hands in a steeple in front of his lips.
"'Hurting John equals hurting Sherlock.'" Sherlock mumbled to himself.
"Pardon?"
Sherlock cleared his throat. "The man said 'hurting John equals hurting Sherlock.'"
Mycroft walked to the chair and leaned towards Sherlock's face.
"The great genius has finally finished the case that has been lying before him this whole time. The one case that meant most to him; but he could not solve it, until now." Mycroft smiled and clapped slowly while he stood straight again. He walked around Sherlock's chair carefully, knowing that Sherlock was in a bad mood.
"You knew. You knew about all this. All these…. Emotions, and you didn't even mutter one word to either of us before my suicide?" He said coldly, looking at the cement beneath them.
"Everybody but you two knew." Mycroft backed off a little, fearing an attack, but trying not to show it. "I figured that it wouldn't be right coming from me, but I thought Lestrade would maybe tell you two."
"You're scared I'm going to lash out at you." Sherlock said while he looked up at him. "I'm not going to." He looked back at the ground, trying not to show his emotions. "I'm the one to blame. Anyway, I'm not the only genius that can't recognize emotions."
Mycroft looked upon Sherlock in surprise. "Sherlock, you are not to blame. These events are all just a part of the plan, maybe even Jim's death." Sherlock looked up angrily at Mycroft. "He was a genius too, like you and I; don't even deny it. For all we know is that this could all just be a plan of his. Now what do you mean?"
"Lestrade. He likes you." Sherlock said with a grin.
"What?" Mycroft said dumbly.
Sherlock sighed and fiddled with his sleeve. "Obviously you should talk to John about it."
There was silence.
"It's not just his plan." Sherlock said, looking back at the cement once again.
"Excuse me?" Mycroft asked, in shock.
"Moriarty. It wasn't just his plan."
"Oh?" Mycroft blinked. A chair seemed to miraculously appear behind him, of which he sat himself down on.
Sherlock gulped. "Let me tell you about the interrogation.
I always seem to end it at some dramatic point. Well, whatever I guess. I can't watch series 3 of Sherlock when it first comes out; for it comes out in Canada at a different time and my family does not have BBC, which REALLY SUCKS because I LOVE ALL THINGS BBC. So no spoilers once it comes out please, cuz I shall die if anyone gives me spoilers. And I apologize for how long this is taking. I shall try to write as much as I can before series three comes out in other countries. I will probably try to cut it short, because I probably won't have enough time to do all the scenes. I've also decided that I'm going to include smut in a chapter later….
OOOOOHHHH and I read a Mystrade fanfic the other day, so I am now hooked on that as well as Johnlock. Might change the title once I can come up with a more fitting one. Any ideas? I shall give you credit if you give me one. If you want to see future chapters then I suggest hitting "follow" or even "favourite" ((((:3)))) if you want to be reading it without searching all over the countryside for it (especially since I take so long to update XD). Ummmmmmmm what else was I gonna say…. OH YEAH! My friend might do some YouTube video thingies of fanfictions, with the writer's permission. So she might do this one if I start updating more regularly. (I blame school work. OH and I'm also the lead in my school musical. *celebratory fireworks and poof boom thingies!* And I also blame Hip Hop and Handbells.) She's going to try to do my other one I'm working on at the moment (A Soul Eater X Kuroshitsuji crossover called The Final War?) So if and when she starts, I will tell ya'll straight away. IM SO SORRY IM RANTING. OKAY BYE!
R&R please!
