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It took John a moment to realize that he hadn't woken up for a while now. He groaned and roll onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face. He blinked a couple times and then pushed himself up. He hesitated before he climbed out of his bed and looked around for clothes.
He slipped on a pair of sweats and wandered out of the room. When he made it downstairs he stopped for a moment in a patch of sunlight coming from the nearest window. While he stood there he realized he didn't hear any of the normal loudness coming from the flat.
His brows furrowed and he wandered into the kitchen only to find not a thing had changed from the night before. His stomach did a flip at the thought of the night before and he took a deep breath turning away from the room.
He slowly walked towards Sherlock's room and hesitated by the ajar door. He pushed it open and his breath caught. Sherlock wasn't in the room. He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the living room. He took a deep breath and turned away from the room, rushing downstairs and his heart calmed.
Sherlock's coat was still there. He had never, not once, left without the coat. Unless....John closed his eyes.
Unless he had left in such a rush that he had left it.
His hands balled into fists at his side and took another sharp breath. Sherlock wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have gone without telling John...without telling someone.
Except.....
He would have told someone.....
John groaned and then stomped up the stairs. He rushed up to the room, threw on the first pair of jeans - after shedding his sweats - and practically tore the shirt onto his head. He rushed into his shoes and had to do them again after putting them on the wrong feet. He also had to turn his shirt right side in because he hadn't realized it hadn't been.
He rushed back downstairs and grabbed his jacket, pausing to write a small note to Mrs. Hudson:
Went out for milk
John
After he made sure she would find the note he practically slammed the door behind him and made it maybe a block before he stopped abruptly and turned to the nearest security camera.
He looked around and then pointed at it, "You get one of your cars, and come bloody get me," he half shouted. He took another sharp breath when nothing happened.
"I know you're watching! You always do, so I fucking know you can see me. Get. Me. A. Car," he said roughly.
The camera - after a moment - turned and pointed towards the ground. After about a minute of John trying to calm his breathing, a sleek black car drove up and one of the back door opened.
He didn't even hesitate as he got in and found a woman sitting there. He half glared at her, "What took so long?" he asked hotly.
"Mr. Holmes has work to do," she answered simply.
"He can answer me," he shot back.
She simply hummed. He looked out the window. He took a deep breath. This wouldn't end bad. I couldn't end bad. Not now.
So here he was.
Going to see Mycroft bloody Holmes.
YOU ARE READING
Just Within Your Reach
Fanfiction-The case was a disaster. The storm had come early, and they were stuck in the hotel. John didn't want to be in the room, not now. Not with Sherlock right there. Just within his reach. If he wanted, he could reach out, pull Sherlock close, hold him...
