Here it is. This is what everything up to this point has been leading up to.
Also if you have an Instagram and like Sherlock, Doctor Who and Supernatural, follow me. @timeywimey_winchesters
I hope you enjoy and be sure to tell me your thoughts on it.
~BB
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Chapter 10
It was raining today. The sky crying for all the fallen and all the ones who can't forget.
This was something that you got used to in London. Rain. So much rain. I sat in my armchair, looking at the water wash down the windows.
It had been two and a half weeks since my birthday. Molly had been very kind to me. She had not brought up what we had discussed in the kitchen that night. I didn't want to talk about it and I think she understood that. She had been one of the best friends to me in this time. I hadn't gotten over Sherlock's death, but she made it easier to live.
Life had been dull and dismal the last few days. I had gone to see about a job at a doctor's office - not the one Sarah worked at, that would be too awkward.
I was not given the job. They were afraid of my unstable mental condition. I had to say that I understood.
I needed to make money somehow, but I did like having the time to just relax.
Because unlike Sherlock, I was not someone who thrived on always being busy.
I liked to sit in my chair. I liked to drink my tea. I liked to watch the rain fall. I even liked to take brief naps sometimes. I liked to do whatever could distract me from thinking because it always led to one place.
I fell asleep that afternoon, only to be woken by Mrs. Hudson an hour later.
"John, I'm sorry to wake you. Can you help me with my groceries?" She asked. Her arm was almost completely healed, but it was good for her to be careful.
"Of course," I said standing up and pulling my jacket on to face the cold.
Her car was loaded. I carried around five bags at a time, so I only had to make two trips. Then I offered to help her unload the bags.
That took me a bit longer than I would have expected, as Mrs. Hudson kept saying, "No that doesn't go there," but eventually, everything had a place.
"I really do appreciate it," Mrs. Hudson told me.
"Don't mention it," I replied.
"Are you still going to see Sherlock today? It's raining cats, dogs, and horses," she said.
"Of course I'm going. I went in a blizzard," I reminded her.
"Oh look at you, so dedicated to your friends," she smiled.
"I help you all because you have helped me so much," I explained, smiling sincerely.
"How have we helped you?" Mrs. Hudson questioned.
"Well, you've given me a home and you make me feel like I've got family," I said. "And Molly has always been there to keep me company, even though I didn't always realize it. Greg has bared with me through my down days. He never gave up on me."
"That's very nice, John," Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly. But I wasn't finished.
"And Sherlock, well, he gave me my life. I was alone and worth nothing. He gave me something to keep living for. He put excitement back in my life," I said.
"I'm sure he would have loved to hear you say that," Mrs. Hudson commented.
"Yeah...I bet," I said drearily.
"I'm going to go visit him now," I informed my landlady.
"Good," she patted my arm. "And John?"
"Yes?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Tell him how you really feel," Mrs. Hudson said, winking. I had no words. Had she known all along?
She laughed and went into her living room. I left the flat and grabbed money from mine before leaving. Annalise seemed to always be there, no matter what, so I might as well pay her today.
There was barely anybody walking today because it was raining. I was alone aside from a few bike riders who were wearing big rain ponchos and squinting through the drops weighing down their eyelashes.
I walked the long way to the cemetery. I wasn't quite ready to go yet. I stopped off at a café and bought myself a cup of coffee, which I burnt my tongue on.
I walked past a newsstand. On the front of all of the newspapers, were headlines like:
SHERLOCK HOLMES: TRUE GENIUS
SHERLOCK HOLMES, REICHENBACH HERO: NOT A FAKE!
It made me smile. I was surprised that it had taken them this long to verify whether or not it was true. I picked up one of the papers and saw that they had talked to Mycroft.
My brother was special from a young age. We both were. I always thought that I was the smart one, but I didn't use my gifts like Sherlock did. Sherlock has used his to help people. To make the world better. I only used mine to prove him wrong.
"If only Sherlock could see this," I muttered to myself.
I put the newspaper down and kept walking. I went past the hospital and kept myself from looking up at the rooftop.
I walked past a radio store. There was music playing.
"And now, new from My Chemical Romance, the Light Behind Your Eyes", the DJ said before that song started. I stopped to listen for a moment.
So long to all my friends. Every one of them met tragic ends. With every passing day, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I miss them all tonight. And if they only knew what I would say if I could be with you tonight, I would sing you to sleep, never let them take the light behind your eyes. One day I'll lose this fight as we fade in the dark just remember you will always burn as bright.
I sped up my pace so that I didn't have to hear the song anymore. When you think about it enough, you can make any lyrics fit to your circumstances, but this one was too easy for me.
I saw a shaggy and dirty golden dog, dripping from the rain, wandering around without an owner. It looked exactly like the dog I had seen on the sidewalk roughly a month ago. The one that belonged to the tall woman dressed in black, with blue hair. They had reminded me of Sherlock and I. Now the dog was as lost as I was.
I finally made it to the graveyard.
Annalise was waiting for me with a smile.
"Hello, Anna," I said, "Do you mind if I call you Anna?"
"John, my name is Annalise," she corrected.
I laughed. "Very well, Annalise. How has your day been?"
"Wet," she said. She had a large yellow rain coat on, with the hood pulled over her head.
"Yeah, it's raining pretty hard. But you're here anyway," I said.
"So are you. Didn't we already talk about this when it was snowing?" She joked.
"Yeah, I guess we did," I laughed.
"So what color rose do you want today?" Annalise asked me.
"What do you mean, 'what color'? I always get yellow," I reminded her.
"Are you sure?" She asked, "because something tells me you want a different color."
"What do you think I want?" I asked.
She smiled cheekily and handed me a red rose. I looked at her.
"For your sixtieth day," she suggested.
"Sixtieth day of what?" I asked, unsure.
"Of coming to see him."
I didn't know what to say. I hadn't been keeping count and I hadn't realized I had come here so many times.
She said, "No charge for red. That way money can't get in the way of love."
I laughed, "Well, that settles it. Red it is."
Annalise smiled ear to ear.
"Thank you," I said and walked into the graveyard.
The soil around the tombstone was overflowing with water. I reached up and felt my hair. It was completely saturated, as were my clothes.
"You owe me, Sherlock," I said. "I completely drenched myself for you."
"It's weird. Lately, everything has reminded me of you. Songs, TV shows, even some statues. And it really doesn't help that you're all over the headlines of all the newspapers. Everyone knows you're for real now. You know when I met Matt Smith? Well he asked me about you and I told him you were real. He said it to the whole country on an interview. I'm sorry, I know you told me to tell everyone the opposite. But I couldn't. You were too brilliant to die like that. And now everyone knows that. You're back on the front pages of all the newspapers. And you know who they interviewed, Sherlock? Your brother. He said some really nice things, actually," I told him.
"So, you might be wondering, what's with the red rose? Well, for a really long time while you were alive, I didn't know how I was feeling. I knew we were friends, best friends even, but I never thought about the possibility of anything else, in fact I always denied any mention of us being together. But once were you gone, I had a lot of time to think. And I do mean a lot. I realized that the reason I had been so confused was because I hadn't considered the truth. So why red, Sherlock? Red roses...they're for love," I said.
I rested the red rose on top of his tombstone so that it didn't get drenched in the pool of water around the grave. The pop of color looked sad and lonely with the gray tone of the day.
I hadn't much else to say, so I turned and began to walk away slowly.
That's when I heard it.
"John..." a deep masculine voice said so softly it was almost in-audible.
I figured I had imagined it, as I so often imagined that same voice calling my name, so I tried walking away again.
I didn't get five feet before I heard, "John," louder this time.
I wheeled around.
Sherlock was staring back at me, the red rose I had left was in his hand, hanging by his side.
A million thoughts were exploding inside of my head, but one reigned over the rest; my hallucinations were getting out of control.
I began to cry. "This isn't fair," I said to the heavens, "Now I have to deal with his ghost too?"
Sherlock's ghost took a step forward. "John, it's me. I'm not a ghost."
"No don't take a step nearer! Don't touch me. I need to go," I backed away.
"Please stay."
His voice was so small, so needy. It broke me.
"But you're dead, Sherlock," I sobbed.
He took slow steps towards me until we were a foot a part.
He reached out and touched my cheek. Actual touch. Actual feel.
"Do I feel like a ghost to you?" Sherlock smiled softly.
I was speechless. The only word I could manage to get out was, "Sh-Sherlock?"
"It's me, John," Sherlock hugged me.
I pushed him away. "You Goddamn bastard! You left me alone without a clue that you were gone. How long has it been? Two years, Sherlock! Two bloody years! I almost killed myself!"
Sherlock's face fell. "Kill yourself? Why on earth would you do that?"
Oh, God I was so mad at him. He could have done something to let me know at least. This wasn't fair.
I nodded at the rose in his hand. "I think you just heard me say why."
Sherlock stepped towards me again, "John I know there may be some harsh feelings, and you have every right to be mad-"
"Oh I know I do," I cut him off.
"-but," Sherlock continued. "What I did, I did to save you."
Save me? "W-what?"
"Moriarty had a sniper ready to shoot you through the skull unless the saw me jump."
"Oh so your telling me that you put me through two years of hell so that I wouldn't...die," that actually was a pretty good reason.
Sherlock stayed silent.
"Why would you jump off a building to save me?"
"You're important to me, John. You're my best friend," either Sherlock had tears in his eyes or I did. I took a step forward and hugged him finally, taking in his scent and the feeling of his wet clothes.
"I missed you, you Goddamn git," I chuckled.
I pulled away. "How?" I asked. This was impossible. He had fallen off a fricking building.
"Molly," Sherlock replied.
"What about Molly?" I snapped.
"She helped me. She knows a lot about the dead and she does autopsies so she knows how people die. She told me how to fall," Sherlock explained.
"But I took your pulse. There wasn't any!" I yelled. I wasn't as mad anymore, but I was still shocked as hell. I wasn't sure how to react.
"You haven't gotten it by now?" Sherlock looked disappointed.
"No, Sherlock, I haven't," I said. He'd already started with his superiority complex again.
"The ball. The little black ball," he said. "I put it under my arm. With something blocking the artery, there wouldn't be a pulse momentarily. There was a red stain on the ball, correct? That's my blood."
"How did you know which arm I would check?" I asked.
"Simple deduction. If I knew how to fall, I knew how I would be rolled over. Judging by where you were standing, you would have chosen my left arm, which was closer to you," Sherlock always made everything sound so simple, but escaping death was complicated. Very complicated.
I stayed silent for only a moment.
"That's bloody brilliant," I gaped.
"Same old John," Sherlock smiled. "So everyone knows the truth about me?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, I know it's not what you-"
"John, shut up. You did exactly as I thought you would. Thank you," Sherlock said. I laughed.
"Same old Sherlock," I said. He smiled.
I stared a him for a moment. I didn't ever want to forget this. I could finally see his cheekbones and his lovely sea green eyes again. The way his curls hung over his forehead in the rain. I looked past him at the tombstone adorning Sherlock's name.
"Really, though, Sherlock. Someone is under there, I know because I saw a casket lowered into the ground. Who?" I asked.
"Moriarty," Sherlock answered simply. "He shot himself when I thought I'd found a way out."
"But somebody would have noticed it wasn't you going under there," I said.
"Like I said, Molly helped me quite a bit," Sherlock answered.
"Molly knew all along..." I mumbled.
"Yes, John. And she was very good not to tell you. I'm not sure how you would have handled it," He said.
"Yes, I suppose, but God I was devastated."
Sherlock said nothing again.
"So have I been leaving flowers for a criminal all this time?" I asked.
"No, John. I received each and every one of your flowers," Sherlock smiled. From under his coat, he pulled out a bundle of yellow roses. Some were dead and crumbling, while others were still bright.
"So has it been you all along? Leaving me things. The flowers, the blanket, the rent money, were those you?" I asked.
"Yes," Sherlock said morosely.
"Your Christmas gifts. Did you like the book?" I asked.
He took it out of his pocket. "I've been writing in it. I wrote what you said every day you came. And the chocolate was very good. Thank you for that. I was starving."
"You've been here every day?" I asked, astonished.
Sherlock nodded.
"The night I fell asleep here, how did you know I wouldn't wake up and see you sleeping next to me," I asked.
Sherlock blushed. "I didn't."
"Why did you come back today, of all days?" I asked him, finally. After two years, I would expect him to stay gone.
"John, Molly said to me the day I jumped that I looked sad when I thought that you couldn't see me," he said. " I realized that it was only worse now because I had put you in that position. I never want to hurt you John."
"But I've been in that position all along. Why now?" I said again.
"You said it yourself, John," Sherlock smirked.
"What did I say?" I had said so many things, but they all escaped my mind. I was feeling a mix of too many things.
Sherlock moved closer to me and cupped the side of my face in his very large hand. I felt my heartbeat speed up and my breathing became uneven.
"You said that you love me," he whispered.
Then Sherlock kissed me.
It was something that I thought I would never get to feel, and the fact that I could made me cry from sheer joy. The rain water dripping from Sherlock's curls was mixing with my tears.
I held the back of Sherlock's head, pulling him closer, feeling his soft plush lips against mine. It was better than I'd dreamed about. It was real.
He held his hands on my back, tightly embracing me. Sherlock pulled away and smiled at me. I couldn't remember a time when he had smiled like that.
He moved his lips next to my ear and whispered four words.
"I love you, John."
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So WHAT DID YOU THINK? Crazy, right? Did you get feels? Did you cry? Did you hate it?
Please tell me in the comments and I will love you forever. I want your feedback. Predict what will happen next (I'm in English teacher mode).
The story isn't over though! Hold on for updates. I have more ideas.
Btw, the song at the radio store, the MCR one, is called The Light Behind Your Eyes. It's a very nice song :) one of my favorites.