60 Ways to Say Goodbye - A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Five

Hello! So listen for just one second.

I don't know whether my writing on this story is good or not.

Nobody comments telling whether or not they like it. I have nothing to go on, so if this isn't how you wanted it to go, it's not my fault, I just haven't gotten any feedback.

So please tell me what you think!

~BB

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Chapter 5

I woke with a start one morning, knowing immeadiately that the nightmares had returnned. It was the same sensation that I hadn't felt in months. The very one that had given me sleepless nights of staring up at the ceiling, wondering why I'd ever involved myself with someone like Sherlock.

I sat up and sighed, feeling a pain in my lower back. I had fallen asleep in my armchair the previous night, drinking camolmile tea and convincing myself that I had done the right thing in deciding not to go to Sherlock's grave again.

I straitened myself up in the chair. Looking out the window, I could see that today was one of those rare days where the sky was blue and cloudless. It was simply beautiful and the sun was shining. The window was open and I could hear that the street was busy with people. It was a huge contrast to the inside of the flat, where it was eerily quiet.

The emptiness of the flat struck me. It was just me today. Mrs. Hudson was out shopping, as she'd told me she would be. There was not one sound. Just my breathing and the occasional sounds that the plumbing would make.

No point in being stuck inside on this beautiful day, I reasoned with myself. I knew deep inside myself that I was just looking for a way to escape the taxing silence of the flat. I slowly got up from my chair and stretched my arms over my head.

I became aware of the grumbling in my stomach. I hadn't eaten in three days and it was beginning to wear on me. Starvation might have worked for Sherlock, but even if I was doing his job and carrying around his mobile, I wasn't Sherlock  I walked into the kitchen to see if I had any food stowed away in the pantry.

The pantry was barren with only a few crackers, a jar of pickled onions, and half of a moldy loaf of bread.

I guessed it was about time to go shopping.

As I walked back into the living room, I slipped on something. I hit the floor with a thud, hurting my leg as I landed. I looked down at what I could have slipped on. There was a black rubber ball that was rolling away from me.

I felt as if I was going to throw up. Sherlock had rolled a similar bouncing ball on the top of a lab table at St. Bart's mere hours before he... 

Even more unsettling was the fact that this ball had not been in the flat before I had entered the kitchen, or if it had been it hadn't caught my eye. Of course, anything that reminded me of Sherlock caught my eye these days so I had no explanation for the ball on the floor.

I picked it up and examined it more closely.

There was a red stain on one side of the ball, but I couldn't decipher what it was. Wine? Cranberry juice? Blood? It could have been many things. Knowing my luck it was probably the latter.

I threw the ball away from me as quickly as possible, not wanting the demon blood stain near me anymore, and shrugged off the weird feeling in my stomach. I was trying to forget Sherlock, but it was no help when everything around me reminded me of him. I got to my feet and walked to the door. I grabbed my jacket off the hook on the back and descended down the stairs.