Two years of hell

This is the story of how Mary meets John and his two years without his best friend.


1. Chapter 1

"So, John, how is everything?" I was sat opposite my counselor as she tried to pick my brain apart. I didn't want to have to come back. I didn't think I would have to. Not after I met Sher-.. him. My life had been so much better. I had something to do, a friend, a place to live, a job. Well, sort off. Now I have nothing. My old friends don't understand. Anyway I'm not the same John Watson I was before. I don't even live in the same place. 221B Baker Street now stands un-inhabited. It would be too painful to go back there, far too painful. I realized my counselor was staring at me.

"I'm fine." But I wasn't. How could I be. He died. He threw himself of a building right in front of me. I had seen so many deaths in the army, but this one was the worst. Because he was my friend. he was my only friend and he left me. He left me alone. Some days I hate him, some days I miss him, but most days I just wish he was here so I could ask him why. Why did he do it? Why did a person who pretty much loved himself jump from a building? 

I was back at my flat. My small, grey, dismal flat. I had never sold it in case Sherlo-... he got too much. If he got too angry or too obsessed with a case. But now it seems fitting to be back here. My cane sits beside my bed. It seems to stare at me, taunting me by the fact I need it again. My eyes often stray to the draw. The draw that holds my gun. I took it out once, pointed it to my head. If he wasn't going to come back for me, then why shouldn't I go there for him? But I didn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to. I don't know what stopped me, maybe it was because, deep down, I new he wouldn't have wanted that, or because I wasn't trained to do it. After all, a good solider follows orders.

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