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"I love you, John" Sherlock said while staring into John's face. He wished he were talking to John, though. His John. Instead of a photo of him saved on his computer.
Sherlock was sitting on his desk. He was in a very bad shape. It seemed like he hadn't taken a shower in days. And why would he? No one was coming to look for him. Nobody knew he was there or even that he was alive. Nobody that matter to him, at least. It had all happened so quickly and it had been so unexpected. Not even he could have deduced this was going to happen.
A few weeks back, months after Sherlock had faked his dead, Molly Hooper and he were having breakfast at her place. Breakfast was the only meal they shared because Molly had to work all day and almost everyday, and Sherlock just took off and didn't come back until really late at night. He didn't even bother in telling Molly where he went or what he was doing, and, normally, she didn't ask his whereabouts either. Maybe because she knew Sherlock wouldn't tell her anyway, or because she didn't want to seem nosy.
Little did Sherlock know that the real reason behind her leaving his business alone actually held more importance. And that day, he would definitely find out why.
"I'm heading to work now. Are you going out? Do you need anything, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked up from his newspaper, which he kept reading in hopes that the media would soon drop the whole "suicide of a fake genius” thing.
"No. And if I did, I'd get it myself as I always do."
It seemed a bit off, Molly asking if he needed something. She never really asked because she always got enough groceries in her flat, the newspaper was delivered early every morning and, lately, that was all he needed.
"I just think it's a bit dangerous for you to go out so often. But okay," Molly sighed and stood up from the table. "You really should go look for him. I think it's about time, don't you?"
He stared at her for a few seconds. "Time? No, Molly. I don't think it's time. It's barely been a few months, the papers are still writing stories about it."
"You don't even have to let everyone know. Just… John. Just him." Molly walked out of the kitchen, then turned around and looked at him again. "Sherlock, you only seem to be getting bitter with every passing day. It's not like I am not used to it, because I am, but John seemed to be the best part of you, the best part that isn't your brain, of course, and I think you should go talk to him before it's too late."
And then she left.
Before it's too late. Sherlock got up after a few minutes of thinking and went into the room Molly had allowed him to take. He went to his closet and looked through the clothes she had gotten for him. He asked her to get him clothes in which he could go outside without being spotted. He even asked for fake beards, wigs and strange hats. He couldn't stay in her flat for too long.
He finally picked something and changed. This time he was wearing a suit, much like the ones his brother used to wear, and a brown scarf that covered half of his face perfectly. Then he went out. He had to find out what Molly meant with before it's too late.
He knew John wasn't living in Baker Street anymore, Mycroft had told him. He also told Sherlock he had tried to convince John to stay. He even offered to pay for it very subtly, though Sherlock knew how subtle his brother could be, but John didn’t accept.
So he went to John's new place. It was far away from central London, probably the only spot John could afford to pay. Not a very nice place. He wanted John to get back to Baker Street, but he knew that there was no way of making him move back unless he knew the truth. And even then, it was only a possibility. He didn't know how John would react after knowing the truth. He could only hope.
It was a good day, Sherlock thought, because, as he went around the corner, he spotted John going out of his flat with a woman. No one told him John was dating again. Not even Mycroft. Was this what Molly meant? Before it's too late and John falls in love with this woman? But Molly didn't know about Sherlock's feelings towards John. No one did. It could be a friend, he thought. But knowing John, well, he doesn’t only friend women.
Sherlock decided to follow them from afar, just to make sure.
The pair walked for a couple of blocks more before John kissed her on the cheek and the woman stepped into another flat. Sherlock took a deep breath. If John were dating her, he wouldn't kiss her on the cheek. Unless... they just started dating. He had to keep following John to find out more.
John kept walking in random directions. Sherlock couldn't figure out where he was going until they had got closer to the building in which they had first encountered Moriarty. What is John going to do there? He watched as his friend got into the building and then he followed him in, keeping a few steps between them.
He couldn't see John yet, but he could hear voices. He was talking with someone. He recognized the voice and it surprised him. Was this a set up for him to finally come clean to John?
"What's the matter, Molly? Why did you want to see me here?" John asked.
He was away from Sherlock's sight still, but from the volume of his voice, he was close.
"Because I needed to tell you something, John. Something important."
She was going to tell him that he was alive. Why would she do that now? Just now that he was getting closer to eliminating all of Moriarty's workers. There was just one left; the most important one. Moran.
Sherlock didn't know what was Moran's first name, but it didn't matter. He was following Moran's footsteps very closely. Or that's what Sherlock thought.
"What is it then?" John seemed uncomfortable standing in the place he was.
"Does this place bring you bad memories, John?"
"Well-"
"Does this place scare you?" Molly changed her tone, and Sherlock noticed this. There was something different in her voice.
"Molly… Is something wrong? You seem strange."
"I always seem strange, don't I? The cute, innocent, little Molly Hooper. Always willing to help, no matter how bad he treated me. No matter how mean his words were to me. Always. So cruel. And yet, there I was, doing everything for him. Anything."
"Molly, really. I know how Sherlock was, but he's dead now and-"
"DEAD!" She was shouting now. Sherlock didn't really understand what was happening, but he felt John and him were in a dangerous place. "HE'S NOT DEAD! HE'S ALIVE! VERY ALIVE." Sherlock moved to a bit to look behind one of the pillars. He wanted to see what was happening with John, who was just standing still.
"What…?" He said nearly whispering.
"He's living in my flat. He goes out every now and then. And he thinks I don't know what he's up to, but oh, I know! I know so very well! And I'm going to stop him before he stops me. I'm gonna end the best part of him before he can reach me." As she spoke, lots of red dot lights appeared all over John.
"I- What's happening? I don't understand."
"You don't need to, John. You won't need to."
Sherlock searched himself for a gun. He didn't remember if he took it with him, but he was so frightened for John's life that he really wasn't paying attention to his search.
"Goodbye, John," Molly said snapping her fingers.
“No!” Sherlock’s scream was drowned by the loud noise of the guns’ shooting.
After the fire stopped and the snipers seemed to be on the move, he got out from behind the pillars with a gun hidden on his hand. He finally found it.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He yelled to Molly who was looking for her way out.
"Oh," said Molly turning, searching from where Sherlock's voice came from "don't tell me, you saw this? Awh, you poor thing."
"WHY DID YOU DO IT? HE DID NOTHING TO YOU!"
"No, he didn't. He was nice. He was a good person." Molly sighed "But, he was the best part of you, Sherlock. That was his only mistake. To be PART OF YOU."
"Did you work for him? All this time, were you still working for him?" His voice was loud but he wasn't shouting anymore.
"I work for him. I'm the last one who is still working for him. All those snipers were just paying a debt."
"Moran. So you are Moran." His voice broke. He had been living with Moriarty's most loyal worker all this time and he didn't know.
"Yes." Molly smiled "FINALLY. WELL, IT TOOK YOU A LONG TIME, DIDN'T IT?"
Sherlock put a smirk on his face, which got Molly confused.
"Moriarty will shake your hand in hell."
Sherlock raised his gun and shot her with all the bullets he had. When Molly dropped to the floor, his whole body was shaking. His hand was trembling. He shot Molly. Molly Hooper. The sweet girl who used to blush whenever Sherlock faked a compliment to her.
He felt like dropping too, but he needed to see John's body. As he tried to get closer to him, though, he heard the guns around him getting ready to shoot again. He stopped walking and closed his eyes. John, he thought.
-
They didn't move the bodies. They thought everyone in the room was dead and they didn't care in making sure they really were. They had to leave fast and that's what helped Sherlock. If they had checked on him, they would have definitely killed him this time.
He wished they had.
He managed to text Mycroft and asked for his help, and he was soon taken to private doctors. He needed blood transfusions and surgery urgently.
After a few weeks, he was able to move out from Mycroft's and find his own place.
A place he hadn't left in weeks, just thinking about everything that had happened. How John died because of him and how he didn't get to tell him what he wanted to say the most.
I love you, John.
Sherlock felt how his life was draining from him. He'd need to find something to make him feel alive again.
Solving puzzles wasn't an option. It wouldn't make the trick either way.
Sherlock's brain was deteriorating and he needed to do something about it.
But what?