Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Sixty One - Sherlock Holmes

The only thing John had left was the backpack and the ring he'd gotten for Christmas, years ago. The backpack was in a closet; he'd forgotten that it was there, and he was scared it wouldn't contain anything worth the pain of looking at.

The ring, on the other hand... He put that ring that Sherlock gave him on a chain, (it didn't fit his finger anymore; when he had enough money to go to the jeweler's, he'd pay to have it made a few sizes bigger) and he wore it everywhere, even when Mary was around. Because he liked Mary, but he had loved Sherlock.

One day, when it was raining and they had nothing to do, Mary was in the flat sorting out John's photo albums. She came across the backpack, and opened it furtively, pulling out a CD that said Vanilla Saturday, "The Better One."

"John?" Mary asked, coming into view. "What's this?"

"Oh, that?" John sat up on the couch, and motioned her over. Thunder clapped, and she squeaked, running to him.

"Yeah, this," she said. She sat down, and John took the disk.

"It's one of my old disks. 2010, actually." He turned the disk over in his hands, smiling. "Remember Sherlock?"

"He's the guy you used to date, right?" she asked, nonchalantly taking and putting the CD into John's laptop drive.

"Yeah," John said. "Sort of."

The music began to play, and John sunk into the couch with Mary. 

"Love this," she said.

"I know, right? He's an amazing piano player. Really has a talent for it. He said he was going to start the violin in June..."

"June?"

"2010."

"He was really good at it," she commented. "Do you have any pictures?"

"Only him at sixteen."

"What happened when you were sixteen?" she asked, her eyebrows creasing.

"I moved," John said. "And he sadly passed away." He knew that it was an oversimplification, but he wouldn't tell her about Pickard. Maybe not ever. He cut her off before she could offer her condolences. "It happened. It's done."

Mary sat back, and let out a tremendous sigh, like she wasn't aware that she'd been holding her breath. "Do you miss him?" she asked, quietly. 

"Yeah," John said, scooching closer. "Yeah, course I do. But it doesn't do to dwell. Doesn't do at all."

Mary leaned forward and kissed John on the nose. John smiled at her feet. "You're the second best person I've ever met."

"Who's the first?"

"My mum," she said, laughing, and pressing her head to John's chest. "John," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I saw the drawings."

John's eyes shot open, and he began to stutter, internally groaning. She saw the drawings? He wasn't ready to show her those, that was his thing, the only thing that he'd kept to himself over the past years. "It was just, I mean, I was bored, and it bloody happened, and I-"

"John," Mary placated. "It's okay."

"Oh my God, which ones did you see?"

She smirked. "All of them."

"Oh, Jesus."

"It's okay, John, you just have an unhealthy obsession. It's fine. I'm not worried."