I woke up. I never sleep really. But you already knew that. That I barely needed sleep and then the fact I don't have you and there's nightmares. So many nightmares. And their more or less the same.
So today's 365 days, that's a year by the way. Of course you knew that already. Your notes puzzle me John.
I'm walking to your grave now, it's cold, raining. I can feel the droplets stinging against my skin, it's like pins and needles and my skins feeling numb. I can feel my face heating up against the cold, my skin burning red. Lips Turing blue.
It's cold but it's not as cold as the place my heart used to be, that's empty, it's an iceberg and you can only see the tip.
I collapsed at your grave, two coffee cups in hand. They spilt everywhere. I fell unconscious.
How did I get in my room? Lying on my bed? Under my covers? Who made the tea that's gone cold at my bedside? Who tucked me in so tightly?
I climbed out of bed, stumbling over my own feet. How did I get home. I called for mrs Hudson, but she didn't answer.
I heard footsteps, I'd always known your walk but I never thought i d hear it in this flat. Making their way closer to me.
I felt strong hands on my shoulders, I felt myself pushed down onto a chair, your chair. Your hands.
I couldn't see properly, my brain still fogged by sleep and fuzzy like a bad storm out at sea. But when I did open them, I was sure I was dreaming.
"I got your note" you smiled at me, your voice as soft as ever.
"J-j-John?" I whispered, I can't quite comprehend what's happened but it's too bazaar to be real.
"Shh shh, your safe now, your okay, no more tears now" John calmed me, brushing tears from my face. Had I been crying? I never realized. But you did. You always realize.
Third person
"J-John?" It's the only word he could think of, the only word that made the least sense and the most all at the same time, constantly juxtaposing in his mind like a broken spring.
He reached out for John and John took his hand gently, guiding it to his own face, holding it there. Skin against skin.
"I told you I'd be home, shh, it's okay now, please Sherlock look at me, please" John begged, tears slipping down his own face and onto Sherlocks cold hand.
Sherlock blinked and then looked up, John was looking right back at him, crying. Soft warm blue eyes, seas overflowing and spilling over.
And John was holding him tightly, holding him close, stopping the screaming, closing the movie screens that covered the nightmares that he viewed each night.
And John was home, he'd said he would be but he'd doubted it. How could the dead come back to life? How could dreams become reality? Why cry when your not sad? Why laugh when your scared?
"John?" Sherlock whispered, letting his thumb gently stroke Johns cheek, wipe away the tears as if they would wipe away the pain.
"Oh Sherlock" John said sadly, gently cupping Sherlocks face in his hand, letting Sherlock lean into the touch, "I am so sorry"
"John! Oh John!" Sherlock exclaimed, hugging John tighter to his thin form. "I thought I was dreaming, I thought my mind was p-playing tricks on me, John I m-missed you"
"Shh it's okay Sherlock see I'm here, I missed you too, I communicated as best I could, I don't know but I assume you got the notes. I got yours"
Sherlock let out a muffled choking sound then went to stand, heading back over to his bedroom, John followed cautiouslyand waited in the doorway as Sherlock reached to his bedside cabinet to a small wooden box and sat on his bed with it. He held the box like it was precious and irreplaceable.
"I got all your notes and I saved them" Sherlock mumbled quietly, tears dripping down his face.
"Oh Sherlock, I didn't mean to hurt you but if I didn't I would have lost you forever, I can't risk that" John insisted, more tears running down his cheeks and jaw bone.
Sherlock shuffled through the post it's, they were in a particular order, the most recent laying on top.
"Sherlock you didn't need to keep them, but I'm touched that you did" John said quietly, walking up to Sherlock closer and sitting behind him on the bed, pulling Sherlock backwards into him. Sherlock cradled the notes and John cradled Sherlock, his strong arms wrapped around his delicate torso and held him tight.
"You taught me sentiment and now I can't live without it, it's tedious but I think nothing of it around you" Sherlock said quietly, leaning into Johns touch and hearing the steady beat of Johns heart pulse through him.
"I'm home now" John promised, his voice still a whisper in the room. Sherlock fell asleep in his strong arms, still sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back against John. And he was finally home. And so was John.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Hurts Doesn't it?
फैनफिक्शनJohn 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!
