My whole time knowing you, you never said how it felt to be torn from the inside by shards from your own broken heart. Always the soldier. Each night I choose a star and I give it a quality of yours to remember you by. The solar systems not boring. All because of you.
11 Stars so far since your funeral. Since I helped carry your coffin with Lestrade and a few others I don't remember. 11 stars, I won't rush ahead, at this rate I'll die and I still won't have listed all your points. Your quirks. Every freckle. Every tiny mutation that lays in your skin.
Your coffin felt so light but yet it dropped on my shoulders like I carry the world, my heart had never felt so badly trampled. I think it's love but it's too late now.
It's night now, raining gently. A bright glistening star shines overhead this glum world.
Star 12: your smile, because no matter the circumstances I can't help but feel all happy inside, tickly almost and my face will return the smile I never knew I had.
Thankyou for that.
No goodbyes, only hellos, only hey and hi. The only goodbye I will ever utter is the one I do when my soul leaves my body to join yours wherever it may be.
You should have told me how it felt. How it felt to have your life crumble but yet your body seems unwilling to give up. Why didn't we die together, or those crucial seven seconds after when Mycroft's snipers took away our threat.
You put a price on a life that isn't worth living. You made it valuable but you were the golden piece of amber that brightened my life, your gone now.
I won't give up all hope, if I know you like I think I do, your waiting out there somewhere, going to link my arm with yours on the long trip to heaven. Or is it a run through hell as we chase our dreams. Dreams that can't possibly be true. I dream about you each night.
Sometimes my mind replays the blood that leaked around you on that dreaded day. Other times it makes up cruel things to put you through, I'm unable to wake and so I watch you suffer through pain.
But then there's the rare times that we're running through alleys and then we're laughing like children. The days when it was me and you against the rest of the world.
It hurts more than I thought my heart could feel. Feels like broken ribs and a collapsed lung but it's all psychosomatic, just like your limp. The only cure is you, as I was yours.
I speak to you directly John when I say this; but wherever you are:
I miss you xx
YOU ARE READING
Hurts Doesn't it?
FanfictionJohn leaves Sherlock to face the world on his own. It was either John die, or Sherlock and John die and so he made the decision and he pulled the trigger. Leading up to now. A/N: It will end happily though I swear!
