Love:The Power of Life and Death- Johnlock

Memories of the Army Doctor

CHAPTER 1

Sherlock awoke to a line of moonlight, fighting its way through a crack in the bedroom curtains of the worn abandoned house. It shone brightly across his perfectly sculpted face and it meandered at his cheekbones. The brightness emphasised the colour of the detectives pale face.

He clumsily reached for his iphone in his half- conscious state before looking at the time: 4:50 am. Sherlock groaned before throwing off his warm duvet and dragging himself into the kitchen.

Click. Sherlock poured the boiling water into his mug and added sugar to his tea. He then made his way over the dusty pine flooring towards his worn armchair and sat himself down before picking up his laptop beside him and browsing through the news. At the very top of the brightly lit screen was a headline: 'Scotland Yard's Forensics Team Identifies Murderer of an Accountant'. "Idiots." Sherlock remarked as he read through the article, slowly sipping his tea as he observed the photographs of the crime scene. Eventually the detective lay back in his chair; massaging his temples in frustration at the obviously incorrect accusation. "Anderson, how are you still alive with your level of stupidity..."

The fatigued man searched the room for things to cure his boredom. His eyes observed his surroundings; peeling wallpaper covered the walls and there was a water stain on the ceiling above the bookshelf. The bookshelf. Sherlock came to a decision; he will read. He walked towards the mahogany shelves and scanned its contents; mumbling each book title as his eyes brushed over them. "Best Criminal Masterminds"..."The Art of Manipulation"..." My book of sheet music"...and then there was a book which caught the man's attention. A smile broke onto his face. "The A-Z of London" he read aloud before picking up the paperback and returning to his armchair. Sherlock flicked through the pages and inhaled deeply at the scent of the book. Memories flooded back to him...

"You took your time."

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip and pin machine."

"Y-you had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of, it sat there and I shouted abuse..."

The detective chuckled at the memory. That was the day that the case first started; the case where the simple book that he held in his hands was the key to deciphering the code. It was the case that John had named 'The Blind Banker'.

Sherlock couldn't resist, he dropped the book and reached for his laptop again. For hours the man read through each and every single blog that John had wrote, smiling at all of the memories of living life with John and Mrs Hudson in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock's happy thoughts soon came to a stop though, when he reached the bottom of the web page and saw the hyperlink to John's final blog. 'The Reichenback Fall'. The detective's eyes widened; he shakily put down his third cup of tea that he had that morning. It all came to him at once; throughout the whole week he had dealt with a hidden reminder at the back of his thoughts, something he could not quite put his finger on...until now. 3 years today. Three years since Sherlock fell to his 'death'. Three years since he saw James Moriarty put a gun to his mouth. Three years since he left John Hamish Watson. "John..." Sherlock whimpered as a tear ran over his cheekbone and down his face.