Sherlock had noticed when his brother had left him. Of course he had, it was his nature. The soft white light that had chased away the shadows disappeared, as if someone had suddenly cut of the power. It left a cold, dark atmosphere, void of comfort, as the tendrils of despair crept back to wrap themselves around Sherlock's fragile heart - damp and chilling.
It seemed as if all Mycroft's words had been for nothing as Sherlock slid back down the wall, paralysed at once by fear. He twitched and squirmed, unable to move. His body flinched, a reflex reaction to human contact, as an imaginary hand forced his head up. Tears glistened in his frightened eyes as he stared at the hallucination in front of him. He envisioned a monster, shadows, darkness. What he saw was not what he had expected.
"John," he called out, his voice rusty from disuse, sounding strangely tinny in the darkness.
The man before him stayed quiet as he crouched down in front of the skinny, curly-haired stranger. Sad eyes looked out from the pale face, a shaky hand coming up to wipe away the tears staining high cheekbones, stopping just before skin touched skin. Sherlock closed his eyes, and commanded his body to relax. It was going to be all right. He was safe.
"Sherlock," the apparition sighed softly.
Sherlock tensed suddenly. The voice that graced his ears was not the tender, cheery voice that had become so familiar. It was not the voice of John Watson.
A mist of anger materialized to shroud Sherlock. His eyes flashed red with a wild passion. His struck out at the imposter.
"You are not John! Where is he? Who are you? If you have hurt him..." he screamed in a red-hot rage, arms flailing, one word thundering through his head.
Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. HURT!
But his fist fit only empty air. The demon had vanished.
The fight went out of him all of a sudden. His cries of 'John!' faded into gasping sobs, tears flowing freely now.
Everybody always left. Nobody could cope with his icy exterior and trademark deductions. He should have known that John would be no different. Hell, if his own brother couldn't stay with him, how was anybody else meant survive him. He cursed that part of his brain that had let his heart rule for just a moment. One mistake that had cost him dearly.