A Study in Resistance- A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter Thirteen

Awww I should've saved Mary's death for chapter 13! Anyway sorry it took so long but as one of my readers knows I've got a new baby bird to take care of (shhh he's asleep do not wake him up) and that is very much a full time job. It's like having an actual human baby but smaller :P So no one really knows when the next chapter will be, hopefully soon. I'm really tired to this may be complete crap but you get what you get and you don't throw a fit!

~Sec

P.S. my cat just tried to pee on my bed I CAN'T CATCH A FREAKING BREAK

John had a bit of trouble getting all of his bags out of the cab. Somehow he had been able to fit all of the necessary clothes and things into only three very heavy bags. He had sold everything else, including the car. And the house. Everything had sold incredibly fast, it had only been two months since Mary. John had been living in a hotel since he got all of the stuff he wanted to keep out, he found nothing but pain in that house, in that car, in the furniture. Setting down two bags, John rummaged through his pocket until he found his old spare key. He looked up at the door before unlocking it. So many memories, he could remember when it was as painful coming here as it was for him to go anywhere near his and Mary's old house. He unlocked the door, wondering if anyone was home. It was difficult to tell, Mrs. Hudson always kept to door locked.

Struggling in the door, struggling up the stairs, he reached the top finally and opened the door to the flat he and Sherlock used to share. Sherlock was on the couch passed out. John dropped his bags loudly on the floor causing Sherlock to awaken with a jump.

“Morning,” John said plainly.

“Is it?” Sherlock asked groggily.

John looked at his watch, “No.”

Sherlock sat up and ruffled his hair, “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” he agreed, still emotionless.

“What are… those doing?” Sherlock flicked his hand towards John’s bags. He was in his blue dressing gown, it was tied, weird.

“You’re the bloody genius.”

Sherlock eyed John, “Your room’s as you left it.”

“Thank you,” John said, picking up his bags again.

The two men stood in front of the dark gravestone

Mary Watson

Loving Wife

July 31, 2014 [damn right she’s going to die on my birthday so don’t judge the fact that she would be moooonths overdue okay?]

It didn’t say her birthdate, John hadn’t been sure when her true one had been. The stone was next to one reading ‘Sherlock Holmes’. One plot lay between them. It was a bit unnerving for Sherlock it see his own name on a gravestone. When Sherlock died he was to be buried at the headstone with his name on it.  John was to be buried in the plot between Sherlock and Mary’s.

Isn’t it weird how we plan where our bodies will decay? It’s so pointless! Sherlock thought. Meanwhile, John was speaking to Mary’s gave, not unlike the way he had spoken to Sherlock’s. There were only a few differences, there was actually a body in this grave, and John never asked Mary to “stop being dead”. Sherlock also noticed that John never asked Sherlock to leave. After a little speech John started crying, then full on broke down. He had loved that woman with all his heart and soul.

“I made Sherlock come with me do I wouldn’t do this,” he said between sobs with one of those sad smiles. He knelt, putting a bundle of roses by the headstone. Sherlock didn’t understand, it was just a labeled rock with a body under it.

“I love you Mary Watson, and I won’t be back here until I’m dead,” this surprised Sherlock, “I’m not going to let your death drag me down like his did. I love you, and once I’m there with you I will do everything I can to prove it, but while I’m here I’m going to live my life, okay?”

It was sad to see John like this but Sherlock didn’t know what to do.

“I had them bury the baby, give her a headstone too. I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted,” John said not even putting his face in his hands anymore, just openly weeping, “Louise Jane Watson,” he read off of the headstone on the other side of Mary’s.

“That’s what you wanted to name her right? Ah hell, I don’t know what you wanted. For anything, but I know you didn’t want this,” John leaned forward so that his face was in the grass covering Mary. He closed a fist over some of the grass.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he sobbed, it was obvious in his voice. Sherlock decided he needed to do something. He knelt in the grass next to John. He slowly started stroking John’s back, John kept his face in the grass.

“I’m here for you John.”

John sat up slowly, “Thank you Sherlock,” he said embracing him and crying into Sherlock’s coat, “Thank you…” he repeated. Sherlock was way out of his league here. He wasn’t exactly an expert at hugging sobbing people, or comforting people. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John slowly. He knew in his heart that there was nothing behind the embrace but a man who needed a friend, but Sherlock had not forgotten the “feelings” he felt for John and a little tiny bit of him hoped that John felt them too. He rest of him, however knew that John never would.