"She what?" Sherlock demanded, his voice cracking through tears that were fast rising in his eyes, bile rising in his throat.
"She passed away in her sleep a few hours ago, I'm so sorry for your loss"
Sherlock choked on his tears. His hands were on his mouth, then on his head, then on the back of his neck, then on his mouth again. He struggled to breathe. He knew this was going to happen. For 8 months he knew this was going to happen and yet now that it had finally happened, his whole world was crashing down around him.
He screamed.
The scream was nothing like the movies, it wasn't dramatic and romantic, it was a loud, ugly, grief-stricken scream. He didn't care who was watching, he didn't care what they were thinking.
Margo was gone.
She was gone and all that was left in her place was pain.
The pain of losing his wife was all Sherlock could think, it was all he breathed, all he heard, all he thought. The pain was all knew.
And so he screamed.