I do not own Sherlock Holmes in any way shape or form – if I did, Holmes and Watson would be together.
"We are here today to witness the passing of a titan. One of the greatest minds in the modern world. We wish you peace as you pass from this life into the next." The priest was preaching to a church full of crying people. Many people who knew him were there and there were some who had only read his stories. The truth was though, He would be missed. There was only one thing wrong with the occasion, the one who should have been there, wasn't
Sherlock Holmes walked through the streets of murky London in search of his friend. He couldn't wait, after three years separation; he was desperate to see Watson. You see, Holmes had a secret; he was in love with his Boswell. Holmes had it all figured out in his mind, he would go to Watson, explain to him about his three years and apologise profoundly. If Watson forgave him, later in the night, he would confess his love and hope that Watson returned his feelings. He knew that there was a large possibility of rejection, be he also knew that he could not go without telling Watson about his love. He sincerely hoped that he could find his Boswell – Holmes knew that he wouldn't have a hard search to endure, if he couldn't find him within the first hour, then he would simply talk to Mycroft.
He walked past a graveyard and noticed a funeral going on. He didn't, however notice Watson and his brothers present, nor did he see Mrs Hudson. Holmes walked on to carry out the search for the good doctor. He came to Baker Street and found the 221b was completely deserted. He thought that it was a little strange. He wondered what had happened to Mrs Hudson and Watson. That was when the feeling of anxiety sparked in his chest – where was Watson? He searched for an hour, each minute passing, that spark of anxiety became a blaze of fear. He gave up and decided to go to see Mycroft.
"Mycroft, have you seen Watson or Mrs Hudson anywhere?" he asked quietly.
His brother gave him a short cryptic answer
"You will find all your answers at Baker Street,"
Holmes sighed and turned back in the direction that he had come from. He walked quickly to Baker Street, wanting to see and hold his Watson. The building was the same and so were the rooms that they had shared. He heard the door opening downstairs and he rushed to it. The sight that met his eyes was awful. Mrs Hudson looked thin and worn, she had dark circles under her eyes and she was sobbing. Watson was nowhere in sight.
"Your brother told me everything," she said brokenly.
"Mrs Hudson, what on earth is the matter?" He asked, genuinely concerned for the woman. The middle aged woman ran to him and threw her arms around him. Holmes was momentarily stunned, before wrapping his arms around her in order to comfort her.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Holmes, it's just too terrible..." she trailed off and took a deep breath.
"Mr holmes, what i'm about to tell you is not a happy story, but i think that we must begin at the end. Dr Watson is.... d dead," she said through her tears.
Holmes felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. His Watson, dead. Holmes went momentarily numb before he remebered that there was a story to be told.
"The good doctor struggled very much after you "died" John lost a grand total of four stone and became withdrawn. He still went to his practice, but he overworked himself. Then, his sister and mother were killed in a hansom accident two weeks ago and the doctor became even more reclusive. He was found three days ago with slashed arms and a slit throat," Said Mrs Hudson, her voice cracking at the end
Holmes staggered to a chair and noticed that there were tears running down his face. He was all alone in this world now. This morning, he had been so happy and now he felt like his whole world had come crashing down upon him. Then suddenly a thought struck him, Watson had felt like this for three years. At that thought Holmes lost whatever composure he had and began sobbing. He barely registered Mrs Hudson wrapping her arms around him – he only thought of how much he wanted them to be HIS Watson's. You see Holmes often suffered from nightmares, and when he woke up sweating and crying, Watson was always there to comfort him and tell him that everything would be okay.
"I need to be alone for a while," he whispered. Mrs Hudson only nodded and let him up. He briefly nodded his head at her walked swiftly at the door.
Sherlock Holmes had never run so fast in his life, He ran to his brother's house and collapsed into his arms.
"Oh god, Mycroft, i can't, i i need him, so much, i don't know what to do," He cried hysterically on his elder brother's shoulder.
Mycroft just held him and rubbed small circles onto his back. Mycroft felt his heart break for his brother; he also knew that his brother would follow his friend. He decided to say goodbye now, while he still could.
"Sherlock, I know that this is painful for you and i know what you are planning to do."
Holmes looked at his brother and nodded his head at him.
"Then i would like to say goodbye now, while i have the chance."
Holmes looked at Mycroft and hugged him fiercely; he knew that his brother would miss both the Doctor and himself. He then got up and walked away, while he still had the courage to do what he was about to.
Holmes stood at Watson's grave and read the inscription; tears running down his face.
Here lies John Hamish Watson Healer of the sick and mender of the broken May he find peace with his friends
He pulled the razor out from his pockets and looked up at the sky. The wind carried away his last spoken words as he slashed them. Sherlock Holmes died with a smile on his face, finally being reunited with his friend, his love and his life.
"I'm coming John"