When everything falls into place (a johnlock fanfiction)

Chapter 2

John blindly stumbled down the driveway and hailed a taxi. This was not something he made a habit of these days, but John knew that he needed to get away from Mary before he lost it too.

"Where to, mate?" The cab driver drawled, a slightly bored tone to his voice.
"221B Bakers street", John replied, his low voice barely audible as he held back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. John needed a place to stay, and this was the first that popped into his mind in his moment of need.

The journey passed in a quick blur, as John's mind was preoccupied with the memories he had suppressed for the majority of the time he had been with Mary. "Move on." He had told himself, "if he were still alive he would not feel the same way anyway. John, you are not gay. John you weren't in love with Sherlock. Sherlock bloody Holmes...John, you do love Mary, it's just the grief masking it."But as he sat in that cab, his short legs brought up to his chest in a protective manner, and his breath ragged and erratic, John knew that he had been lying to himself.

After paying the unsuspecting driver and clumsily clambering out of the cab, John tentatively knocked on the door of 221 Bakers street. Several seconds later, the door was answered by none other than Mrs Hudson herself, who's temporarily angry expression softened to one of pity when she saw the awful state that John was currently in. "Come inside, dear", she cooed softly, "would you like a cup of tea?"

After politely declining Mrs Hudson's offer, John explained his current situation to his former landlady. Without a second of hesitation, Mrs Hudson insisted that John was to take up his previous lodgings, and not even think of paying her back until he was financially independent and stable once more. John was blown away by her upmost kindness, and planted a soft kiss on her left cheek as a sign of his gratitude. He then gave her a curt nod, and retired to his room. Well, he had made the conscious decision to go to his own room, but soon found himself curled up in the middle of Sherlock's bed, grabbing the bedsheets in his fists as if they were Sherlock himself, and clutching them would prevent him from taking that godforsaken fall.