John Watson's Death
It's been a month since Sherlock's death. John had bee getting into the booze but not as much as his sister had been doing for the past few years. He stayed away from their flat. Mrs. Hudson of course worried about John but she wasn't able to get him to come back. "There are too many memories here, I'm sorry." was what he said to her right before leaving 'for good.'
John Watson was now sitting at a pub he frequented that was across the street from his new place, a small, crammed one room. He was drinking his usual, four shots of whiskey then a bottle of brandy to wash it down.
"Eh, are you Dr. John Watson?" Someone asked who sat beside John. It was a blurry, dark figure because of how much he had to drink tonight.
"Ya, wha about et?" He slurred his words as he tried to make out who this man was.
"You seem a bit out of it...maybe I should help you make your way home..and we can talk tomorrow?" John would have refused but the man was insisting. He gave a short nod.
When they got across the street to John's small flat, the dark man helped John sit back in his cozy chair. The man could have been talking to him but not a word was heard by his ears. He closed his eyes shut falling into a light sleep. Then, John suddenly woke up with a scream. He couldn't remember anything that had happened. He then remembered the man, the dark man. Who was he? John got up out of his chair and walked over to his desk. His laptop was opened, though he didn't remember it being open before he went out. He ran a hand over the keyboard and at his touch the screen popped on. It was on his old blog that he wrote stories of his and … well, their adventures. There was a new post reading, I'm coming.
John took a small step back scared of how this message was somehow typed up on his computer. He didn't let anyone into his place at anytime...but wait. That man came in here and he had fallen asleep with that man still here, right? His head was pounding from thinking to much while he was still trying to get over the effect of the alcohol. "My ordinary, puny brain." John whispered to himself. He sat down at his desk and moved his mouse to delete the message. A little box popped up which read, I wouldn't do that if I were you Dr. John Watson, this could be another case. John's eyes widened at this message. Could it be Sherlock? No that was impossible so was the idea it could also be Mortias. Maybe it was Mycroft? He rested his head in his hands. His eyes were watering. Mentioning of Sherlock was hard for him. But he promised himself that he would not cry...for Sherlock's sake. John took a deep breath as he kept himself from sobbing.
John Watson made his way slowly to his work at the hospital. When he got to his office he sat down with a sigh and rested his head on the desk.
"Morning, Dr. Watson." John looked up to see a man stand before him.
"George Cane. I'm your patient...or is this a bad time...should I reschedule?"
John shook his head. "No sorry, just a bit tired but I promise you I won't do anything bad...just a check up."
"Long night I guess?" Mr. Cane said to John.
"Yeah...I've had a lot of long nights."
"Oh, I've had those after my wife past."
John didn't want to say anymore for a fear his eyes would begin to water.
After Mr. Cane left John rested behind his desk again. Beep. Beep. His phone received a text message. He looked at the blank screen and saw the message. I wouldn't drink anymore, last night was really rough for you. John dropped the phone and looked astonished. "Who..who could this be?" He picked up his phone and dialed Mycraft's number.
"Ah, Dr. Watson, I haven't heard from you in a while." He tried to stay at his meaning of pleasant.
"Yes...I was curious, have you been trying to reach me earlier today or yesterday?"
Mycraft didn't speak for a couple of seconds then spoke up. "No, I haven't had a need to call you." This question had intrigued him.
"Oh ok..nevermind." John hung up quickly embarrassed by calling him.
John got home at a decent time but when he opened his door. Files were sprawled out onto the floor. He leaned down to gather them, not even asking himself how this happened. On each page a letter was highlighted. L-R-E-K-C-S-O-H. A note laid beside the papers. Hope you can figure this out, thought I would make it easy for you. John rearranged the letters and it spelled, Sherlock.
"Oh..god no...he can't..I saw him fall!" He threw the papers down as he leaned back in his familiar cozy chair. As he tried to calm himself down he heard music play in the background. Not just any music, a violin. A violin was playing a song that Sherlock would play when he was sad. "Sherlock?" John said with a whisper, not believing himself for saying the name as if he was still here. He walked into his bedroom and saw a dark shadow moving his hands as if playing the violin, which music was coming from that direction. "Sherlock? It can't be you could it?" John stepped closer reaching out his hand to find the shadow had disappeared. "No..of course not." He sighed. John missed his old friend, the man that changed his life, that got him off his feet. "Dammit Sherlock!" John yelled. He began to sob falling to his knees. He was crying over Sherlock he couldn't control it. It wasn't gay to cry over an old friend, right? No of course not...it was his best friend. He didn't have any love interest in Sherlock. When he was able to keep himself from crying as much he reached into his bedside draw and pulled out his keep sake gun. He put it in his mouth keeping his finger lightly pressed on the trigger. His breath was ragged but he felt there was no other way. Sherlock did it...I can do it also.
A hand grabbed the gun quickly throwing it aside and grabbing John pushing him against the wall. "I put the H.O.U.N.D. drug in your coffee at work so you wouldn't remember this..I just couldn't bare to watch you from afar." The man whispered, his hot breath against John's neck. Hot tears fell onto John's shoulder as the man began to cry. "I love you, Dr. John Watson..." He pressed a heated kiss on John who didn't reject it but just flowed along with the kiss. John ran his arms around the familiar man his breath taken away. "Sh..er..lock?" Holmes moved himself away from John realizing what he had done to his old friend. "Yes..." He pulled a pin out of his jacket and stabbed John with it. "It's what the woman gave me...I thought you would need it..." Everything went black after that.
"Sherlock!" John yelled as he rose out of bed. His head was pounding. As he tried to get up he fell, just like that one time where Irene Alder had given Sherlock that drug. "Dammit..who did this to me..." When he crawled at his best to his desk, he found the sleuth hat on top of his computer. "Someone is trying to get me to believe that Sherlock is alive.." Tears ran down his cheeks. He had wanted to believe such a thing but it had been to long. He would think Sherlock would come for him, his sidekick. He had enough from this person..he wanted this to stop. He made his way out of his small flat and out onto the street.
In front of the building where his life changed, that is where John was standing. "Sherlock I'm coming..." He whispered. He made his way up the stairs of the building and onto the rooftop. He stood himself on the ledge of the building. John took a deep breath as he stared down at the ground a grand distance away. "One step and it's over."
"John!" Someone yelled from below. "John please don't jump!"
John looked down to see a person that resembled Sherlock from where he was. No, it couldn't be, this was just his imagination. John took a step and fell to his death. He closed his eyes and thought. I love Sherlock. A confession in his head on his death fall.
"JOHN!" Sherlock ran to the unmoving body of John cradling it in his arms. "What have I done!" Sherlock ran his shaking hand over John's cheek the sticky blood beginning to dry. "John..John..." Nurses gathered around trying to pull Sherlock off of John's body. This was a weak moment for him. "No...please..." A man had a tight grip on him which he couldn't get out of.
His tombstone was right next to Sherlock's. "John, this is all my fault..if I had just stayed away...but I couldn't. I remember when you said that you wished I wasn't dead. Now, I say the same. But you aren't a mastermind." Tears ran down his cheeks as he gave a sob beating his hand against the stone. "Dammit...John, I'm sorry!"