Unbelieving (A Johnlock Fanfiction)

Haze

Chapter 5:

I huffed out a big cloud of smoke as I sat in the armchair, unhitched from all existence. I closed my eyes for no particular reason. My burning eyes told a different tale of sleeplessness, and I then realised just how exhausted I was. I raised my hand to fill my lungs with smoke once again, and the toasty feeling of something creeping in my system inside was strangely comforting, and even though it was wrong, it felt so right.

It was in my mouth, tucked between my teeth, my lips lightly puckered around it.

Deep breath in.

Warm. Burning.

Exhale.

Smoke. All around. Through my mouth, nose, my eyes felt like they were coming out of their sockets.

Smoke. All around. My lips were dry, my throat was dry, my stomach was dry, the pipes inside my body felt rusty. Jammed. Brittle. I was breaking on the inside. I was breaking on the outside.

Smoke. All around. Like fog that veiled smiles from my being, sunshine from my days, life from my existence. The breeze from my hair, warmth from my heart, and him from my eyes, my very fabric of being, to which he was the very fibre.

Smoke. All around.

***

"John" I heard Mrs. Hudson trot up the stairs, "John, dear, there's someone at the do- ooh dear! What's all this!" She doubled over in a coughing fit as she entered the flat. "Oh dear god. John.. John, oh my, John, dear what is all this? Stop it, now! Throw that-" she snatched the cigarette from my hand a little too harshly, "- filthy old thing away and never touch it again, do you understand?" She was screeching by the time she reached the end of the sentence, and I was staring up at her like a deer in headlights. Her voice was wavering, and I saw something in her eyes. Something like concern. Something I couldn't comprehend at the moment.

"There's someone at the door." She said, finally looking away.

"And what am I to do about it?" I asked, my words slurred, and I rested my head limply on the armchair.

"She's insisting on meeting you."

"Tell her I'm-"

"I told her that you weren't seeing anyone, she's still insisting. Saying it's urgent."

"Who is she?"

"I don't know! Just you come down now, and see to it that you treat her well. She looks like a good woman."

I didn't bother to even roll my eyes, and got up.

As I went down, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at Mrs. Hudson.

"Please, John." She said in a voice, barely above a whisper. That's all she said. And I knew what it meant. It meant so much more than the words themselves. It said so much more than what she did.

I just lowered my eyes and turned away, walking to get to the front door.

As I looked up to the person, a wave of guilt and unfiltered emotion hit me like bricks.

"Mary" I breathed her name out with a sigh.

"Oh. You remembered." She said bluntly. Her eyes were smoldering coals and her lips, blades, today. Not like the first time I saw her, soft and tender, and utterly, unbelievably beautiful, and so uncannily like him.

"I..." I gawped at her, as I stared into her eyes that were storms of grey and green, like emeralds bestowed in an ocean of smoke.

Like a shallower Sherlock.

And that's exact why I resented seeing her. I frowned and asked her what she wanted. She broke her facade, and smiled sadly.

"You've been taking."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Drugs." She stated. I was silent as the sea. Unmoving, except for my drumming heartbeat and my breathing. Finally, I sighed and asked her how she knew.

"The smell. You've been smoking, and your speech is slurred. Maybe you've been drinking, but I can see the needle marks on your left hand. So maybe you've been drinking too, but drugs? Definitely. What was it?" She asked sternly at the end.

My mind was reeling, failing to catch up. Words spilled out of her mouth like bullets, and hit me in the right spots. So familiar. Everything came flooding back to me, and I was drowning. I had no recollection of going upstairs and sitting in the chair, but when I came back to my senses, all I know was I was in my armchair, and she was in Sherlock's. She was not Sherlock. She was so much like him, that even when I tried, I couldn't stay away from her.

I knew that I was drawn to her solely because she bore semblance to him.

But she wasn't Sherlock, and that's why I hated her so much. She felt imposing.

Like he felt imposing.

The difference was that he felt like an intricate artwork carved in ice, where every inch is pristine and perfect, and so gorgeously delicate, carved with the utmost passion and love, and prowess, it felt so complete, so full, so impossible and yet so beautifully simple, with every edge sharp as a knife and every curve was marble, and when the night fell, it reflected the infinite stars in itself, the oceans and depths, and the hundreds of thousands of voids and blacks and millions of glistening lights, all symphonized into this very existence.

She felt like the water, this work of ice would have become.

~

"Tea?" She asked as she got up from the armchair, and into the kitchen.

***

(A/N: Sorry for the length of this chapter, guys.
It wasn't even that happening, or interesting, but believe me, this block just keeps getting worse. This is really one of the longest blocks I've ever had ;_;

Anywho you guys are the best

Ilysm

I'll update soon
With something

Maybe not a full chapter

But sumtin.

Oki

Bye lovies.

See ya

~Annie~)