(A/N: I suggest you get a box of tissues cause I cried a river writing this.)
As I opened the door to the flat, Mrs Hudson immediately rushed over to me and engulfed my much taller body into a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh Sherlock," she sobbed into my coat. I leaned down and rested my forehead on top of her soft, greying hair. I pushed away tears as I hugged my landlady back, without as much force.
After a while, Mrs Hudson spoke.
"How is he today?" I sighed.
"Much the same, though the doctors say different."
"What do you mean?"
I rubbed my face with my hand and hung my head.
"They think he has about a week. So any day now really." Tears blurred my vision and every emotion revolving discomfort filled up inside me. My heart felt as if it were sinking - though that's not actually possible.
"When can you visit him again?" I wanted her to stop asking questions in all honesty, but I still answered.
"Visiting hours start again at 6 but I'll leave here just before 5:30. I need to get something for him." She tried smiling after I'd finished talking, but it didn't really work as she burst into tears again.
We ate together that evening. Mrs H cooked a simple yet delicious dinner (and forced me to eat it all). Once I'd finished, I checked my watch. 5:25.
"Mrs Hudson," I called out to the kitchen. "I'm just leaving. I'll send him your love." And with that, I slammed the door to 221B and hailed a cab.
***
I walked through the main entrance to Bart's Hospital and went straight to the room I dreaded. Slowly and quietly I opened the door to his room and stepped in. The whole hospital smelt like disinfectant so it didn't surprise me that this room did too.
I carefully approached his bed and, once he'd heard me, his view cut from the window to my tired-looking face.
"Sherlock, you don't have to keep visiting if you don't want too." He smiled sheepishly as I sat in the chair next to the hospital bed.
"John Hamish Watson. Why in heaven's name would I not want to visit you?"
John smiled a bit wider and weakly pushed himself up so his back rested on the headboard of the bed. "It's the 5th time you've visited this week, and it's only Tuesday!" He giggled.
He looked so tired and fragile. His skin was a pasty white and his eyes were baggy and had brown rings around them. He looked so different, yet he was still the same inside.
"I bought you something," I said, smiling slightly. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a white rose.
"Thank you Sherlock, it's lovely." I grinned at his reaction and placed the flower in a glass of water on the table next to John's bed.
We spoke for what seemed like a century, but was only a mere two hours. I told John about Anderson and Donovan were pretty much the same, but weren't allowed to work together anymore as Lestrade had caught them in his office...I pity Greg, really I do. I also told him how Mrs Hudson was coping, and gave John her love. He then told me that Molly would come and see him everyday whilst on her lunch break and when family and friends visiting hours were over. I guess working at Bart's did have its upsides sometimes. I made a mental note to thank Molly for all her support.
8 o'clock soon came whizzing by, meaning I had to leave. This was the part I hated the most; not knowing if this was to be the last time seeing my best friend again. It killed me.
I stood up from the chair I had been sitting on and smiled at my blogger.
"Must you leave? I get so bored!" John asked me, his eyes starting to droop.
I chuckled.
"Yes John. They'll chuck me out if I don't!"
John sighed, which made me feel guilty.
"Fine. See you tomorrow."
"Goodbye John."
"Hey, no need to say goodbye." He winked at me, and I winked back.
"I'll be back tomorrow. I promise."
He smiled softly and I closed his door. I strolled down the hospital corridor, eager to see him again.
***
I visited him again the next day as promised. He had become much weaker over night and could no longer push himself up into a sitting position like he had done the day before. This was painful to watch as this meant his condition was becoming worse.
He was asleep for most of my visit, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to be comfortable.
I visited him again that evening and he had said the same thing he had said the day before.
"Sherlock you don't have to keep visiting if you don't want too."
And I replied with the same answer I had said before.
"John Hamish Watson. Why in heaven's name would I not want to visit you?"
Once again, 8 o'clock came by much faster than I'd hoped, and it was time to say goodbye. But as John had said before: 'No need to say goodbye'.
As I reached the door to John's room, I noticed 1 of 5 petals had fallen off the rose I had given him. Disappointment came over me as I realised how quickly its life was starting to leave. Just like someone else I knew.
***
Days went by and John's condition grew worse and worse. He grew frailer by the minute and his once lively and bright eyes became lifeless and dull.
Each day, I noticed a new petal from the rose had fallen, creating a pile of white petals on the table next to the hospital bed.
That Sunday I went to visit John as usual. As I reached for John's door, a nurse placed her hand on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at her. She scrunched her face in concern and nodded her head. I knew exactly what she meant and I suddenly felt sick.
I turned away and pushed down on the door handle. I entered the room and sat in my usual chair. John, who had his eyes closed, stirred and peeled his eyes open with great effort. His lips flicked upwards as he looked at me.
"Hey soldier." I whispered.
"Sherlock Holmes, the great Consulting Detective. It's been a pleasure working with you." John croaked, causing my vision to blur. I smiled, pushing back the tears that were threatening to spill out of my eyes.
"Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. It's been a pleasure and a privilege working with you too."
He smiled.
I stood up and kissed him on the forehead. He hummed and looked up at me.
'Lie with me?" He asked, looking very tired.
I obliged and shuffled onto the hospital bed. I sat up and let John rest his head on my lap.
"John Hamish Watson, my dear friend. I'm so glad I visited you."
"I'm glad you visited me too Sherlock."
I smiled. "Good."
"No need to say goodbye..."
With those words, the last petal of the white rose fell onto the table. As soon as it touched the others, John let out his last breath.
I lifted his head off my lap and lay it on his pillow. Tears fell from my eyes as I kissed John's forehead for the last time. I looked around the room, rubbing my hands slowly up and down my legs.
I pressed the red button on the wall next to John's bed, signaling for nurses to come as soon as possible. Within seconds, 4 nurses and a doctor rushed in and wheeled him off to the morgue. I made another mental note to tell Molly to get someone else to take care of that precious body.
I looked at the space in the room where he once was. His sandy hair and his short figure. My John. I collapsed into the chair and hung my head between my knees. I felt empty and cold once again.
After a while I looked up at the door to see Molly peering in.
Her eyes were red from crying, as were mine. I gave her a small half hearted smile and mouthed 'he's gone'.
Molly burst into the room and wrapped her arms round my neck. I kept a blank face for a couple of seconds, but then broke down in tears on the hospital floor.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm sorry...it had to be done! *Hides behind computer*
~Rosie x