John stared out of the cab window, not really paying attention to the dull London scenery that flashed by. The streets seemed so empty without Sherlock.
He arrived at 221B Baker Street and walked up to the door as he had so many times before. He stopped and stood, staring at the dark stained wood. He rested his hand gently on the knob. He wasn’t going to go inside, he knew that. He couldn’t.
“John?” a quiet voice asked. John quickly took his hand away and turned to see Molly Hooper standing awkwardly with a strange smile.
“Oh, Molly. Erm… hello,” he said, averting his gaze. He could feel Molly staring at him, and he desperately wished he hadn’t come, that she hadn’t seen him.
“What’re you doing h- oh, sorry, um… how have you bee- sorry… sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Molly stuttered, watching John’s expressions grow more hurt with every word.
“It’s fine, I was just leaving,” he replied shortly. Molly watched his back as he turned and walked away with a quiet goodbye. When he was out of sight, she let out her pent up breath and hurried to the door, rushing inside and up the stairs into Sherlock and John’s flat.