January 2, 2011
Sherlock's gone. Everything is numb, and everything in the world was feels empty. What was left to live for. His limp was back. My limp is back the world feels dark, and cold. There's no hope. Just a vacuum of depression and emptiness sucking me into a black hole. It's only been a day since Sherlock died, but it feels like ages. Time slowed the moment my phone rang, and I saw him on that rooftop. Sherlock would never know how much I love(d) him...
John's phone buzzed, interupting his journal entry.
There's something I should inform you of. -MH
What would that be? - Jw
There's a car outside 221B. Get in, it will take you to me. This is not a matter for text. -MH
John sighed. He had nothing better to do. He locked himself inside the flat, wallowing in his pain and sadness. This was probably about funeral arangements for Sherlock.
John grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. He had forgotten his cane, but on purpose. He couldn't (and wouldn't) let Mycroft know how badly this was effecting him.
"Hello, John," Mycroft greeted him, as John walked into Mycroft' office.
"What's going on?" John asked, curious, seeing as he was the only one in the room.
"I have received word the Moriarty isn't dead," Mycroft said, face hiding anger. "He contacted me shortly before I texted you. It seems he's made Sherlock disappear again."
"Wait, what? Again? Sherlock is dead, is he not?" John was suddenly flooded with rage, and shock.
Mycroft sighed, lowering a paper in front of him. "No, John, he's not. He faked it to escape Moriarty, but it was too late. Moriarty knew. He knew all along. That clever bastard."
"So where is Sherlock now?" John yelled. "I want to see him."
"Do calm down, John. We can't visit Sherlock. Moriarty told us he's 'In the middle of the Earth, in the land of The Shire'," Mycroft said, reading the paper.
"What? As in hobbits and elves?" John inqured.
There was a moments silence, as Mycroft let the news sink in. It has to be hard, finding out the friend you fell in love with isn't dead after all. Just off in a different world.
"How," John began. "How is that even possible?"
"We believe Moriarty has created, or found, a device to send people into fictional lands," Mycroft explained.
John's head was spining out of control. Trying to wrap logic around this situation was close to impossible.
"I need" John began, shakily standing up. "I need to go."
John walked quickly toward the door. He twisted the knob, yanking the door open.
"John, he'll come after you too!" Mycroft called out, after John.
John was already down the hall, blinking tears out of his eyes. He had to get home.