invderlava:

The bag slips from his hand and crashes to the ground, but John barely hears it over the roaring in his ears, so very taken by surprise at the sight he’d almost completely passed by and stares at now, vision tunneling. It is, after all, just another scene of vandalism, something that someone is going to have to clean up eventually. Graffiti is not uncommon in the city, after all, and he sees it frequently. It’s always just another part of the background, something to go unnoticed. 

But this time it is different.

For a brief moment, as he takes in the message, the meaning of the words, the pain stops.

The ache in his leg is soothed, the agony in his chest eases, and for the first time in months he feels like he can actually breathe again.

In that moment, he’s alive once more, running the alleys with his best friend and chasing after fleeing criminals, happier than he could ever imagine himself to be.

But the moment passes far too quickly, and soon enough his pains return and reality reasserts itself. He leans down and grabs his bag with his trembling left hand, his right fisted tightly around the hand of his cane. He limps away quickly, feeling more tired now than he ever had before. 

#BELIEVEINSHERLOCK

[x]

(via talitha78)