A/N: ecto1Bruined my life and got me addicted to sherlock. I watched the reichenbach fall lastnight.
I don't think I have ever cried harder.
not. okay.
so I have a case of the reichenbach and this is the most depressing thing i have ever written. the song is blue velvet by lana del rey and I highly recommend you listen to it while reading. it makes a good back track. anyways, have fun crying over some sherlock/oc feels.
if demand is good, I may write some more.
she wore blue velvet
bluer than velvet was the night
soft than satin was the light
from the stars
The air was crisp. Refreshing. Cold.
She suddenly wished she had a scarf.
His scarf.
She swallowed.
One year and a half.
It had been one year and a half since Sherlock Holmes had died.
Committed suicide.
Jumped.
One year since he left her heartbroken and distraught on the bloodied and damp pavement beside St. Bart's Hospital. She didn't remember much. Only screaming and thrashing so violently to get to him. She never did. John held her back. She was on the ground in a flash, her breath drew in ragged sobs. Her fingers met something wet.
The slim digits were stained crimson.
She screamed again. "God no, please, God no. John. No. He can't be. No. No John, please... Sherlock..."
She swayed in the wind, not scared of the height anymore.
Standing on the edge, where he stood, stopped scaring her long ago. She no longer cared. If she was to fall, so be it. At least she would be with him.
London was lit up, the chilly night air of February nipping at her nose and fingers. She toyed with the piercing in her nose, thoughtfully fiddling with the ring.
The dress was soft. TIght fitting sleeves. Blue velvet. It pooled at her feet, the open back dipping down to her hips.
Her lipstick was crimson. The same color her fingers were stained after that day.
she wore blue velvet
but in my heart there'll always be
precious and warm a memory through the years
and I still can see blue velvet through my tears
She came here to talk to him.
"You're a fucking idiot, Sherlock," she hissed, "An idiot. You just had to leave. I... I was fucked after that, you know."
She paused, her dark eyes flitting to the starry sky.
"I was fucked. I loved you, Sherlock."
Anger.
"I loved you. So damn much."
Remorse.
"I never told you."
Tears.
"I sh-should have told you."
Sobs.
"I... I miss you so much, Sherlock," she swiped at her face, "John m-moved out. I... I sleep in your bed n-now... Sometimes I wake up and I th-think I hear someone walking around the flat so I get up s-so fast and call your name... B-But you're not there..."
Heartache.
"Mrs. H-Hudson keeps trying to sell your stuff," she laughed softly through the tears, "I k-keep telling her that I'm going to keep it all. She thinks I'm crazy."
Shakey hands.
"I dream about you a lot..." she swallowed, "But, I never finish telling you I love you. It's so horrible. I wake up right as I'm about to say it. It's like someone out there is making sure you never know."
Disbelief.
"It's s-so hard, Sherlock. There are some of us out there. We believe in you. Moriarty was real."
Silence.
The wind howled and the only sound was that of a distant car alarm, somewhere off in the distance of the city.
Then she heard it.
Soft footsteps.
"Miss?"
She stepped down from the ledge. It was a security officer. She put on a smile. "Evening. Sorry. I was just admiring the view."
"... I'm going to have to ask you to go home, miss," he scowled, "It's late."
ours a love I held tightly
feeling the rapture grow
like a flame burning brightly
but when she left gone was the glow of the light
The flat was silent. Empty. Quiet.
Mrs. Hudson stalked in, bid her a goodnight and a Happy Valentine's day before scurrying back into her own flat. But, mid-step, the landlady stopped.
"Oh! A very nice gentlemen dropped this off for you, dear!"
She scowled.
A red, heart shaped box was held out to her.
"John?"
"No, no, no," Mrs. Hudson breathed, handing it to her, "No idea who it was."
She humphed, and then bid the landlady goodnight.
Valentine's day. Disgusting.
She only had one man in mind to be her Valentine. And he was dead.
She locked the door behind her and placed the box on the desk by the window, gently wiggling out of her heels. It was odd. John had given her flowers, a small bouquet which now rested on the kitchen table, earlier that day.
Suddenly, the box binged.
She froze.
Memories.
Her bare feet met the cold floor of the flat with agile speed as she raced to the box and pried it open. When her eyes met the item inside, she thought she was going to be sick.
It was a pink phone.
The pink phone.
SH, 11:36 PM
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She fell to the floor, her chest twisting in a painful knot.
She fumbled to unlock the phone, the only sound in the flat being her muffled sobs and the clicking of the screen.
I'm sorry, Bri.
-SH
You and John take care.
-SH
I miss you, Bri.
-SH
You sleep in my bed now?
-SH
Don't be sad, please.
-SH
Merry Christmas.
-SH
I miss you so much, Bri. I'm so sorry.
-SH
Briley Terrowin wailed, sobbing madly into her hands. Her lungs burned, and she writhed on the wooden floor, her tears staining the old wooden. Her nails dug into the boards and she cursed, sobbing angrily. "Sh-Sherlock... N-No..."
The phone rang again.
Open the door for me, Bri.
-SH
Please?
-SH
And she ran.
Faster than her feet could take her.
She threw the front door to apartment 221B on Baker Street open as fast as she could. Her tearful grin faltered, and a choked wail escaped her lips.
Silence.
The front step was was empty. Unoccupied.
Then she heard it.
Soft footsteps.
"Miss?"
Briley's focus blurred. Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes again.
That voice.
His voice.
"It has been a long time, Briley."
She clutched the doorway.
"I am sorry."
She shook her head. She couldn't turn around. She couldn't. She would turn and blink and he'd be gone, just like all the other fucking times.
"I had to make sure they thought I was dead, Bri," his voice was soft. Softer than she ever imagined it would be.
A warm hand crept up the bare of her spine, fingers dancing across goosebumped flesh.
"I am home."
He tugged her into an embrace, and suddenly she felt okay. Like it was all safe and she could smile again. Briley slipped into his arms, her fingers knotting in his.
"Sherlock, I love y—"
she wore blue velvet
but in my heart there'll always be
precious and warm a memory through the years
and I still can see blue velvet through my tears
Briley Terrowin awoke with a start, she choked and blinked.
Her hand flew to the alarm clock beside the bed, silencing the blaring radio.
The sun crept through the blinds.
She sat up, her eyes wide in terror.
On the nightstand beside the bed, a pink phone sat.
SH 8:03 AM
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cheers! how about some r&r?