Hey there, this is my first story so please be nice! I hope you enjoy this story, it is just fluff to start but i may do some smut towards the end. i just don't feel comfortable doing smut right now... it depends if this story is read...
I decided to write this while waiting - still waiting - for season 4 to come out... it is an AU after the season 2 finale... so yes this is it and so on adn so fourth yadayada... *cough ...
ENJOY!!
Xx_everdeen_jeanxX
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John looked around the room, each and every small inch of this place still reminded him of Sherlock, the slight indent that showed on his armchair, his last untouched mug, the small bottles of experiments, – that Mrs. Hudson had tried and gotten rid of – the piles of paperwork that Lestrade had given to Sherlock and himself to stifle through and the smiley face that plastered the wall, staring at him mockingly.
The memories of that day pained John to think about. It was at a time when Sherlock was at his most intriguing. John had – at the time – gotten mad at Sherlock for destroying the wall of their apartment. But over time had discovered that it gave the room … a personal touch.
“Bored!” John heard Sherlock yell from the apartment. John sprinted up the stairs to see Sherlock sitting on his armchair pointing a gun at the wall.
“What the hell are you doing?” John yelled looking across from Sherlock and the wall. A smiley face that marked the wall stared at him through the bullets.
“Bored.” Sherlock muttered again. “What?” John questioned taking a small step towards the detective. “Bored!” Sherlock screamed, getting up and shooting the wall. Firstly from in front and then from behind his back. “BORED!” he yelled again.
“Oh, so you take it out on the wall!” John shouted, running over to Sherlock and taking the small handgun out of his long and large fingers. He took the bullets out carefully, being sure not to accidently shoot his foot. Sherlock went over to examine the wall stroking the indent carefully.
“The wall had it coming.” He muttered, before swishing his dressing gown around his body and landing with a thud on the sofa.
John shook his head to try and clear his mind from all of the thoughts on Sherlock, it didn’t help that he still lived in 221b Baker Street. John sighed and stared at the armchair where his best friend used to sit. “Even after two years, you would expect me to get over you Sherlock.” He said, standing up and kissing the edge of the chair, which was an act he did every day. Every day, since the day that John Watson’s life changed for the worst.
John walked into the small kitchen that Sherlock and John shared – did share – together. “Tea?” He asked. Grabbing two mugs and putting the kettle on. ‘Yes, John.’ The voice of Sherlock, continued to haunt John, he would hear it everywhere. When he was at his most depressed, he saw him too … He saw him everywhere, in shops, driving a taxi. He could not get him out of his head. “Do you think, we should paint over that?” John said nodding his head and gesturing to the smiley face on the wall. “You realise that you would never forgive yourself if you did?” Sherlock said in his mind. John nodded and sighed looking at the ground. “I suppose you are right.” He said. Scuffing along the ground towards the chairs. Laying Sherlock’s down, he sat in his own and continued to stare at the empty chair of the detective that he missed more than anything in his own tiny and insignificant world. “Of course I am right, Watson, I always am.” Sherlock said, picking up his tea in his mind and tipping it towards John. John smiled sadly and did the same towards his dead companion.
“I miss you, Sherlock.” He could almost see Sherlock lift his head and look at John with pity. “… And I you.” John looked sadly at the chair, the tears that filled his eyes threated to overflow… he had tried to move on. Even having a relationship with a lovely lady called Mary… He guessed that Mary was nice and kind, John called it off before it started to get to serious. But, he knew that at the bottom off his heart he would always only have the heart for his detective. John had always found Sherlock fascinating… ever since he first meet him. When he had guessed his life story… even about Harry.
The moment that John knew that he loved the detective was the night when they first meet Moriarty. The way Sherlock ripped the coat – and bomb –that John was wearing off. He looked terrified… he was glad that he cared… it was the first time Sherlock showed any ‘pure’ emotion towards John’s pity existence.
From that moment on, John’s feelings for Sherlock only increased. Yet, he knew that his feelings were not returned… He knew deep down that Sherlock was incapable of loving. But he always thought that he could change him.
He should have told him…
He should have said something – anything – to get Sherlock to not die…
He knew that if he tried, he could stop him… But it was too late… Sherlock… The detective…
‘His’ detective… was dead.
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SO i hoped that you enjoyed chapter 1, it is only a short chapter to get your tastebuds working... The next one will be longer
xx Jean
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The Dead Detective (JohnLock Fanfic)
FanfictionThe two years since Sherlock died were hard on John, he saw Sherlock everywhere... John wanted more than anything for Sherlock to be alive... After two years he does... but someone comes back along with him... **** DISCLAIMER **** None of the charac...
