It was too late. I spoke up and nothing happened. John left. I could have grabbed his hand-Said something else. Said something more, but I didn't. I let him leave thinking it was all in his head. I lay there now, stuck between anger and sadness. I should have let him know, really know. But I shouldn't have gone as far as I did. Who knows how he would react-How I would react. But I couldn't help but regret the fact that I let him go. I had to tell him-I can't stay like this forever. The only thing I'd regret more than telling him is not telling him. But when? This wasn't something I could just come out and say. I had to plan it. I had to lay out the possible reactions. It had to be somewhere empty, with only John and I. Very few people knew I was even alive. Molly, some members of the Homeless Network.
I could tell him now-The flat was empty safe for him and I. Mrs.Hudson was away in her flat downstairs. I felt my nerves tighten and my stomach churn. Was I really going to do this? No. Not now-I want to let him know now, but it wasn't a good time. I had to wait.
John awoke, more tired than he was before. He glanced at the time, rubbing at his eyes. 10:02. It was definitely past the time John usually awoke. He started his daily morning routine:Get up, get showered, get dressed, get breakfast. Thoughts rushed back to him from last night as he slipped into the shower. He ran his hands over his face, pressing his fingers to his closed lids. He heard Sherlock. It was in his head, It had to have been. If it wasn't, that would have meant Sherlock was right there. Laying next to him. Which of course wasn't the case-Except it was.
John's appetite grew smaller since it happened. Now he was hardly hungry at all, but he knew he had to eat. He sat in his chair, staring sadly at Sherlock's empty one. It still had dents in it where he sat-That only brought back more memories. Sherlock had been reading one of his books, something he rarely had the time for. He almost never sat like a normal grown man. He was sitting with his knees propped close to his chest, his pajamas still on. He looked comfortable and calm. John smiled, still looking at the chair. It was crazy how much he thought about Sherlock. In fact, that was all he thought about. If he wasn't busy, he was thinking. If he was thinking, he was remembering. If he was remembering, he was sad.
A single ring broke through his thoughts, and he dug into his pocket. 1 New Message.
The only person that ever messaged him was Mycroft every so often, and only if he was busy. Sometimes even Lestrade would call for a second judgement. Watson knew Lestrade didn't need his input, but he was glad he asked. Lestrade was upset about Sherlock, and the cases took longer to solve. What took Sherlock a few hours took a few days without him-
I need nicotine patches. SH
John felt his whole body go numb. He blinked a few times, making sure he saw right. This had to have been a joke-Someone must have got his cell phone and now they were messing with him. His fingers were shaky but he managed to reply. 'I don't know who you are, but I'm going to block this number if you don't stop.'
The reply was almost instant, and John was reluctant but urgent to see what it was this time.
Stopping 'cold turkey' Isn't a joke, John. You try it. SH
His pulse quickened, his breath grew heavy and he wasn't sure what was happening or if anything was actually happening at all.
You're not Sherlock. Stop. JW
You're John Hamish Watson. You keep you're slippers under the couch and you always place your cane on your right side. You like cinnamon rolls-In fact you're eating one now. Your laptop password is 'Hedgehog' and you haven't visited your blog in a while or else you'd notice I have. SH
Every hair stood on his body, his heart thumped against his chest and his stomach went to knots. "Stop it. This isn't happening. You're not happening." He started, his voice wavering. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. "You're hallucinating to cope with the loss." He reminded himself aloud.
"I wouldn't say you're hallucinating."
