The apple was red
And his eyes were blue
A knife came along
And carved I O U.
Now his gaze it lay open
His pale face streaked with red,
They were far too late,
Now Sherlock is dead.
John crumbled apart
Into days of blue,
He remembered the phone call;
He'd wanted to say "I love you."
But he was too late,
Just like the rest,
He told his psychiatrist,
"I don't feel the best."
She told John to
"Keep it all wrapped together,
Who knows where you'll go
You've still a long future."
But John knew he'd never
Feel the same again,
But when he told Mycroft,
He felt nothing but pain.
The Autumn was red
And the Winter was blue
When John sat through Christmas,
All he thought was "I miss you."
The violin rested
Untouched in its cage,
John tried to but didn't
Turn a new page.
But he never got
Over the day Sherlock went,
So he went up to Bart's
To join his best friend.
So pack up the moon
And dismantle the sun,
Turn off the stars
Like lights one by one.
Their friendship was bliss,
That wasn't hard to see,
But now nobody dwells
At 221B.
Yet the seasons continue,
The clock ticks too,
But the apple was red
And his eyes were so blue.
Sarah Gaier