Work Text:
Sherlock looked around the void of 221B.
It wasn't the same without John.
It felt wrong.
It felt empty.
Two weeks after Sherlock's return, John had moved his things out of Baker Street and into his and Mary's small marital home in the suburbs.
"It'll be fine, Sherlock." he had tried to reassure the detective. "It's just closer to the surgery, and I will still come any time you need me outside of work."
John paused, noticing his friend's disbelieving look. "Nothing will change, Sherlock."
Minutes later, John had left 221B with the remainder of his belongings, and Sherlock was left alone.
He sat in his armchair, holding the union flag cushion against his chest.
If he breathed in really hard, he could just about still make out John's scent in the seams.
***************************
"Have you spoken to Sherlock lately?" Mary asked as John came in from work and set his bag down in the hall.
"Sherlock?" John questioned, raising his eyebrow at his wife. "Why?"
Mary shrugged.
She was enjoying married life in their own home.
They both had stable jobs; a steady income; a good social life, but she couldn't help thinking there was something missing.
Something John was missing.
Someone John was missing.
She could see it in his eyes.
It was almost as if he was still bereaved.