One Last Time
I sat on the hard bench and looked around the park. I was alone. But I was always alone, no matter where I went, even if I was in the middle of a huge crowd, I'd be alone. It had been a year and a half yet I was still in denial. I knew that it wasn't normal. It was normal to be grieving but not in denial. Everyone told me that it was fine to be how I was but what I really wanted was someone to tell me to pull myself together and move on. Because moving on doesn't mean forgetting. But, the person who would tell me to pull myself together was gone. Forever. He was never coming back. I knew that but I wouldn't accept it, refused to accept it even. Molly couldn't help, Mrs Hudson couldn't help, Greg couldn't help, Harry couldn't help, no one could help me. They couldn't stop the nightmares that woke me every night, leaving me shaking and unsteady. They couldn't erase the memories that flooded my mind whenever I was on my own. They couldn't stop the images that appeared behind my eyelids every time I closed my eyes. Most of all, they couldn't stop the endless guilt that weighed heavy on my mind. I think the guilt was the worst thing, I saw him everywhere I went, sometimes he was just standing on the other side of the road, other times, when the guilt was overwhelming, he was walking next to me, talking to me but worst of all I was constantly seeing his dead body, lying there, on the pavement, covered in blood. It was happening then, he was sitting next to me on the bench, silently, making it even worse. It wasn't him if he wasn't talking about the latest murder or robbery or if he was talking about Jim. He was never silent, I was the one who listened quietly and patiently, not him. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, focusing on something else. I imagined Molly's voice, Sarah's voice, anybodies voice, just as long as I didn't think about him. That's what I'd been told. It worked most of the time. When I opened my eyes he was gone again. I let myself relax slightly. I thought I would be able to cope and I would've if it weren't for the fact that I loved him and I never got the chance to tell him. I don't know if he loved me but I realised I loved him and I never said a word. He knew I loved him before I did, he told me I was asking him out when we first met and I denied it. I didn't realise then. Most people would think that it was ok if he knew that I loved him but it was different because I didn't realise. If I'd seen it earlier I wouldn't have felt as bad because I would've have told him how I felt. Even if he had rejected me. I said counting to ten worked most of the time, this was one of the occasions where he appeared again. I caught sight of his reflection in the pond a few feet away from me and I looked at him. He was just a hallucination I reminded myself. But then he said my name,
"John." It was quiet but I heard it clearly. I stood up slowly as he spoke again, "I'm sorry John." I walked towards him, I wanted to touch him, confirm to myself that he wasn't there. Before I reached him I was slipping. My foot had landed in the pond and I fell over bashing my head on a rock as I went. I started to black out and sink under the water. That was when I realised that this was the end, I was joining him. As my body started to go limp I heard a splash, someone must have seen me fall in, they were coming to try and save me.
"John!" I felt someone lift my body out of the water. I managed to focus on their face and I gasped. It was him. No longer a hallucination but real. But it was too late, I could feel life slipping away already. No. How could this happen? He comes back and my life is taken away.
"Sherlock." I whisper, for the last time. "I love you." I whisper, for the first and last time.