His Empty Chair

Chapter 4

1st September

The party had just gotten into the swing of things when John had heard the loud thumping on the door. With an irritated sigh he had put down his glass and excused himself from the conversation. Who on earth was turning up this late and making such a racket. He had his bets on the pizza man trying to get their attention. They were always so annoyed. Again that thumping went off and John had to restrain the urge to tell them to shut up.

"Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming." The door rattled in its frame as another thump issued from the other side and John took the pause to quickly open the door. "Woah?! Sherlock, wha-" he didn't even get the chance to finish speaking before a wild eyed Sherlock practically fell on top of him. He looked terrible, there were large bags underneath his eyes and his movements were weak as he tried to push off him. John tried to think back to when he had last seen Sherlock and realised it had been days ago. Sherlock looked like he hadn't slept in all that time and he probably hadn't eaten either. John looked worriedly at Sherlock who was now attempting to make his was down the hallway.

"John! Mary! Where's Mary?!" Sherlock had definitely not slept in days if this was how he was acting. But John tried to bury the slight niggle of worry that he felt at Sherlock's ranting. Why was he yelling about where Mary was? He needed to calm him down otherwise he would get nothing out of him. He easily caught up with Sherlock and grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to calm him.

"Sherlock, what's wrong what's happened?" he made sure he kept his voice steady and concentrated on keeping Sherlock standing. But his anger only mounted as Sherlock lurched away from him and staggered into the sitting room. Why on earth couldn't the man just explain himself had to make a dramatic entrance. With a bit of a huff John followed after Sherlock into the sitting room where things were starting to crumble. Sherlock looked like a storm cloud as he stood near the doorway. Everything about him was dishevelled, his hair his clothes and his eyes, they looked nothing like they normally do. They were usually bright and keen and always looked cunning. But now they were simply exhausted, Sherlock was squinting around the room and swaying on the spot. Other people were just starting notice the terrible looking Sherlock, Lestrade was gazing wearily between him and Sherlock but John was only staring at Sherlock. Because it was none of the other things that struck John so much as one thing about Sherlock. It was hidden in those eyes and it wasn't the exhaustion or the slight irritation it was the panic and fear. It was that, the panic and fear which shone in those eyes. What on earth had happened which would lead Sherlock to storm into his house demanding he know where Mary was.

But those thoughts were driven from his mind as Sherlock started to fall to the ground. His knees gave out and he crashed to the floor where he laid still. John lurched into action as Sherlock fell but he didn't make it in time to stop his head from knocking the tiles with a thump. Lestrade had stepped closer and spoke as John knelt down to see what the hell was wrong with Sherlock.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" His only response was a quick glance at Lestrade as he too knelt down beside Sherlock.

"Sherlock," he tapped his face "Sherlock, can you hear me?" John checked his pulse and breathing. Both were fine he was breathing deeply and slowly. He let himself loose a breath of relief at least nothing too serious had happened if he was breathing and his pulse was fine so he hadn't had a heart attack at least.

John doubted that he had eaten or slept in days and it had finally all caught up with him. This bloody case had finally got to Sherlock. It was all he had ever talked about and John had other things to worry about now, with Mary pregnant. It was this thought though that made John do a double take. Why was Mary not here she had been before but surely she would have told him if she was going out. He looked up slightly worried that maybe something was actually wrong. Sherlock was prone to dramatic entrances and strange acts but this was something different even for him. Where was she? He looked to Lestrade for help but he simply shook his head.