Sherlock Oneshots (Mystrade/Johnlock/Mormor)

Alternative Endings Pt. 3 - Johnlock

John's P.O.V

"Mrs Hudson?" I walked out through the front door of my therapist's house, confused as to why my ex-landlady was speeding around the London suburbs in a sports car. "What the hell is going on?"

She seemed distraught, to say the least. She wasn't able to make a very coherent sentence, and she looked on the verge of tears. Seeing her like that broke me; she was like a mother to me, as mine had died when I was younger.

I ran over to her and wrapped her in a hug. I patted her on the back and tried my best to calm her down.

"What's wrong?" I whispered. She cried into my shoulder for a minute or two, before stepping back.

"You need to come back!"

"Back?"

"To Baker Street!" She sounded as desperate as a person could, and my curiosity and fear spiked.

"What? Why?"

"Sherlock!" Damnit. Of course that's what this is about... I mentally cursed myself. I should've known... God, I hope he's alive... "He's barely clinging onto life at this point: He's falling apart!"

"He doesn't need me-"

"You're the only person he has ever needed, John! He needs you now more than ever! You need to squash your pride, man up and help him before he drugs himself to death!"

That hit me over the head so hard I felt winded.

"Where is he? Is he home?"

"Not exactly..."

"Where is he?"

She led me to her car, and I looked in through all the windows.

"He's not in there." She grumbled. I looked over at her and she lifted the boot of her car. I leaned over and looked into the boot, and saw a husk of the once-great Sherlock Holmes.

"Jesus Christ..." I muttered. He looked an absolute sight. His usually perfect hair had grown and it looked like it hadn't brushed it in months. He had steadily grown a beard. It actually looked pretty good on him, if I was being completely honest. "Get up. C'mon. Come inside. Let's go."

Sherlock crawled out of the boot, and I caught him so he didn't fall onto the pavement, face first.

"John..." He mumbled, barely coherent.

"Lean all your weight on me. C'mon."

Sherlock stood up slightly and draped his arm over my shoulders. I gripped his waist and lifted my other hand up. I linked my fingers with his hand that was hanging over my shoulder, trying to keep him as stable as possible.

And maybe I missed him.

And maybe I wanted to hold his hand.

*

I sat him down on a chair inside and asked everyone else to remain outside. I needed to talk to him, but I needed to do it alone.

"Alright." I whispered. "Explain."

"I'm a walking corpse-"

"Obviously." God, I sounded just like him.

"I need you to come home. Back to Bakerstreet. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing again. My mind has completely taken over, and my mind isn't even working. I thought I couldn't understand it previously. It's a thousand times worse now. You are the only person that makes me feel like I'm not insane. As strange as it sounds, you being a completely normal and stable human being makes me believe that, one day, I can be like that, too."