#gas?

okay so i'm not even gonna get into how The Reichenbach Fall coded 'downtown lights' by the blue nile is (atleast not right now, i have a lot to say already). so, reichenbach fall happens and john's boredom's bone deep, this cage (life, his marriage, whatever you wanna take it as) which was once just fine (because he had sherlock and they had quite a happening life) is decidedly not fine anymore. he feels guilty for feeling this way, he doubts his own grief for how strongly it takes a hold of him, how trivial everything else (read: literally his whole LIFE) feels in comparison to this loss. he doesn't even know what to say, how to act, except to ask am i allowed to cry?

he's remembering the great adventures they had together. the days when "the game is afoot" signalled words ready to be written, fickle mysteries waiting to entrap them but being lacerated by the greatest mind he ever knew, the man he can never leave behind even when he himself was left behind (for somewhere deep down, quite contritely, he blames sherlock for being the first to leave).

but these are all things of past now. all he can do is dream of cracking locks, throwing (their) lives to the wolves or the ocean rocks (because really, what have they not done in pursuit of a criminal?)

then, The Empty Hearse. john is trying to outrun the voices in his head, the memories haunting him. he goes out on a date with mary, put the hauntings to a pause and all that, only to crash into him tonight and no, this cannot be happening and mary is looking at him and calling out to him and he should answer, she is getting worried, he should tell her it's fine but is it? is it really fine?

he should be dead.

he's a paradox

he fell to his death.

i'm seeing visions,

john wants to punch him. or hug him. he loves him. he hates him. he wishes this happened like, oh, two years ago. he wishes this never happened. he wishes the dead would've stayed dead, buried in the cemetery he visited heaven knows how many times. he wishes he were the dead instead.

john punches him.

am i bad? or mad? or wise?

i will leave the nsfw part of the chorus to your imagination (i have a lot of it. way too much of it. someone write a fanfic please.)

but sherlock is, after all, much like an add¡ction. the withdrawal was misery and one slip and falling back into the hedge maze and they're on the underground, and they are about to probably be blown up and the last thing he would see is those clear, calculating, alive, eyes staring right back at him and oh, what a way to die

they could've died. they didn't, because of course sherlock wouldn't let him die, but they could've because not every fall can be a feint and sherlock fell from grace in john's heart and he just can't bear to open it up to him again. but of course, he can't escape his own heart, can do nothing but keep his longings locked in lowercase inside a vault. he feels these feelings but doesn't act on them, never acts on them (for someone (sherlock, probably) told him there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk). so he keeps these fatal fantasies buried inside (let out only in the dead of night). again, nothing i want to say here that taylor didn't already say.

and how can i not talk about the bridge. what if he gave up on sherlock, on them? and what if he didn't? they're gonna crucify (him) anyway but does it really matter, when he chose him, when he'll always choose him, when sherlock has haunted him for years but he'd still choose him, religiously, when what they have is all that is holy, and without it all he knows is agony?

he's here, sherlock is finally here, an answer to john's million, billion, whimpering prayers, but he's still left longing for their trysts. is he allowed to cry?

(bonus point for why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow basically being the definition of johnlock from literally day 1)