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Summary
Except John tells him to go to his mind palace, and Sherlock tries, he goes through the motions, but the earthquakes have cracked the foundations and crumbled the walls and the shelves have toppled, spilling the contents everywhere, treasures crushed underfoot. Sherlock surveys the carnage with a despair bordering on panic. He opens his eyes. “I’m sorry, John,” he says. “I don’t know.”
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Sherlock has returned. Everything is fine. Except.
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Bookmark Notes:
No happy or even hopeful ending, a vignette of a dark period, but excellent writing.
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Bookmark Notes:
Apparently I'm good at finding fics that break my heart :'^) I loved how this gives a new light on That Bomb Scene because he wasn't making fun of John's hysterics, he was having his own brand of desproportionate hysterics. The way he had to cope all those years with the John in his head is just... sad, because he had to be thinking something, anything to get through all the hardships, and I just, well, my heart
