Dangerous Love

chapter 12 - John's POV

Heyyyyyyyy my lovely readers. I'm updating! Finally, I know. I'm sorry. I want to get about 3 or more chapters before Christmas which is kind of challenging considering that I have school and no friends to attend to. But yeah, so let's get on with the real reason why you're here. Read on!

John was soaked.

Like absolutely soaked to the bone.

He was freezing. Upset more than he ever he could be. He was also single. Well about to be single.

John was walking back to 221B Baker Street. Their home. Not their house, but home.

John could have sworn he saw Sherlock. Could it be? He started freaking out, screaming out to him,
"S-SHERLOCK?! SHERLOCK! OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD."

The man, whom you readers know to be Sherlock, almost tripped at the words John was yelling out to him. The man ran away and John knew that he was hallucinating. Of course he was. He saw Sherlock die for God's sake. He felt for a pulse. There wasn't a pulse. Sherlock was dead.

"I'm hallucinating already. I cannot deal with him gone. S-SHERLOCK I NEED YOU."

John yelled these words to no one in particular. People around him looked at him quite strangely. John couldn't see any of their confused faces because his face was in his hands and he was on the ground. He was sitting against a phone booth, just sobbing.

The rain had stopped and so did John's tears. He pulled himself together. He picked himself off the ground and fumbled with the keys in his pocket. He had to try every key on the keychain because he couldn't find it.

Of course it was the last key and he opened the door. Mrs. Hudson was coming down the stairs and saw John in such a state.

John was soaked with the orange shock blanket. His eyes were puffy. He looked so horrible. He looked as if someone just died.

"John, dear. I just was upstairs tidying up everything for you and Sherlock. I know how messy he is and even though I'm not your housekeeper, I wanted to give you a break for once."

John wasn't even listening to Mrs. Hudson. He was so distraught. I mean, anyone would be after watching their best friend die.

"Dear? Now John, you can tell me? What's the matter dear? Where is Sherlock? On another case? That man is quite the puzzle isn't he? He is so organized in that mind of his, yet his room. A disaster! It must be so annoying to clean."

"STOP. JUST STOP."

And with that, John made his way up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was standing there, shocked. She had never seen John act that way towards anyone. Even Sherlock.

John opened the door of 221B. It was depressing. Thinking back on the past week of Sherlock acting strange. Was this leading up to suicide? How could John not see the signs? He was a bloody doctor for God's sake.

John left the door open and went up the stairs to his room and changed into dry clothes. He threw everything into the dryer. Not bothering to wash his clothes first. He wasn't thinking about it.

He walked down the stairs and stood in the door frame of 221B. He leaned on the side of the frame and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, leaning on the frame. He sat there for a good thirty minutes and finally stood up.

Everything was in its place. John's computer on the table. Sherlock's on his seat. John's seat parallel to Sherlock's. The mail stabbed on the mantel. Cluedo stabbed in the wall. John walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. All of Sherlock's experiments gone. The body parts were alright to be gone, but everything else could have stayed. Sherlock's door was open. Sherlock's door was never open.

John looked at the door. Should he go in? He couldn't decide and eventually decided that he needed to go through Sherlock's things and give his things to his parents and begrudgingly Mycroft. Maybe Molly would want some science equipment?

John had decided to put it off until the morning. Well, most likely afternoon. He would be hungover.

John opened the cabinet door in the kitchen and pulled out a wine bottle. Two of them to be exact. He grabbed a wine bottle and sat down on the couch. He couldn't even bear to be close to Sherlock's chair.

John drank the night away. He couldn't remember past 7:30 PM. He couldn't remember how many bottles of wine he went through. Sherlock used wine for "experiments" but John knew that he just liked wine and how it made him feel. The point of letting you know this, my dear readers, is so you know that there were more than two bottles of wine in that cabinet.

It was early in the morning. John had fallen asleep on the couch it seemed because when he woke up the next morning; correction, afternoon, he was on the couch. The remote controller was in his hand and the telly on some crappy news channel.

John dragged himself off the couch and staggered to the kitchen. He rested his head on the cabinet to try and ease the hammer hitting his head. (Is this a good metaphor? I wasn't sure, but I'll let y'all decide) He finally opened the cabinet and stumbled back.

There wasn't any of the wine bottles left. John could have swore there was at least 1 big bottle and a box or two of wine left the night before. (Is that too much wine for someone to consume in one time? Like should John be dead from wine poisoning? Is wine poisoning a thing? Let me know since I know nothing on this subject)

John glanced around the flat. It was clean for once. John thought about the first time he met Sherlock and the entire flat was a mess. John laughed to himself thinking about how he wouldn't ever have to clean up after Sherlock. Then he started to cry, thinking to himself what he would give for another day with Sherlock.

John would give absolutely anything. Anything to be with Sherlock another day. He knew he would give anything to save Sherlock, to turn back the clock just a few hours back.

John wasn't realizing that he was saying all of this out loud. Someone did though.

"Anything you say, Johnny Boy?"

How was that?

A good cliff hanger?

I hope so. Let me know

How was the length of the chapter? It was about 1000 or so words.

I will probably update before the end of this week. Tomorrow is my orchestra concert. Oh shoot, I probably should practice that.

As of now, I'm eating popcorn. What's your favorite snacky food?

Alright, so this story is moving along and I'm so excited to see how you like it!