John stood in front of Sherlock's grave for the sixteenth time that week, staring at the black stone with gold lettering. He couldn't cry anymore and he was numb, numb and disappointed. It has only been a month since… it happened. John still keeps telling himself that its just a bad nightmare tha he'd wake up from eventually but that idea is gradually fading as reality presented itself unwelcome. John had come one last time to the grave to sit and think with his friend.
John had been troubled of going to Bart's and following Sherlock, but every time, he could only think of how disappointed Sherlock would be. Sherlock would have wanted him to live on, to maybe solve the cases he couldn't, save people, and eventually put criminals' were they belonged. As he sat on the ground, leaning against the black marble, he started to chuckle as begun to remember everything he and Sherlock went through. He and his best friend; his flat mate; and to John at least, the love of his life.
He let out a sigh as he made his way to stand but something caught his eye. Something was written into the soil around the grave. He could tell that it was written by someone who was right handed but used the left hand. It also appeared to be written backwards John noted to himself. He smiled to himself. He might not be able to deduce like Sherlock, but he learned a few things along the way. It was obvious of who wrote the one little sentence in the dirt.
Sherlock Holmes and it read, "I'm not dead." John smiled again slightly, hiding his excitement. He knew he had to keep it to himself. No one would find it unless they were to constantly visit his grave sight, which John had recently found out that he WAS the only one, with the occasional appearance of Lestrade., Molly, and Mis. Hudson when they had the time. It was clear that the writing was meant for him and only him. It also made perfect sense that John had also known that Sherlock discovered his small ability fo be able to read upside down and backwards.
" Okay Sherlock. I gotcha now." John said to himself as he rubbed away the message in the dirt. He followed it with a JW and a line next to it. It was a short message that only he and Sherlock used every once and a while. He stood after a while, rubbing his hands to get the soil off as best as he could. He glanced around, only seeing the lone gardener cleaning around a cluster of gravestones. With that, he left the cemetery.
The lone gardener watched silently as John left and then he turned towards his own tombstone. Sherlock slowly wondered up to it, seeing the JW with the line. He then wrote his own initials but differently. SHW. He didn't know what made him do it, but he left it as it was seeming that it felt right to leave it. He just wanted John to know he was alive and soon coming home. It wasn't hard to figure out what would occasionally crossed the poor man's mind; the numb expression on his face, the tired looking eyes, and the slight appearance of someone bound to give up and let go. Sherlock knew he had to do something, but of course, John being John. He never does anything, remaining fairly strong as each day goes by. Sherlock smiled as he recalled John's session from earlier. He didn't want to disappoint him so he was standing strong for him. Sherlock felt himself smile wider, chuckling a bit. The first in a month. His blogger; His soldier; his John.
Sherlock glanced after the small silhouette of John Watson's retreating figure and looked forward to seeing him back at 221B Baker Street again. It wont take long. He was only going back for him., The only man who knew him, who cared for him no matter how much they drove each other crazy. Sherlock wanted that back, all of it. All that he had with John. He is his only best friend.
Sherlock then realized how lucky he is to have the Captain in his life and it made everything better. It was enough to wait just a little bit, but only alittle bit.
Three years later, Sherlock stepped over the threshold of 221B hearing Mis. Hudson talking to someone upstairs. The voice that followed was John's. Sherlock suddenly got nervous and butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. He also had a warm feeling in his chest at the sound of John's voice. This is where he belonged. Sherlock worked his way up the stairs and opened the door slowly. The voices behind it stopped when he stepped through.
"Sherlock." John gasped. Sherlock glanced at the floor before looking straight at his John.
"Hay John." Sherlock replied, arms hanging at his sides. Suddenly he found himself encased in arms; John's arms. The shorter man hugged the detective tightly, never wanting to let go. "I missed you." he whispered into John's ear. Sherlock could see Mis. Hudson covering his mouth as her eyes began to get watery.
" I missed you too you soding git." John replied and took Sherlock into a kiss. After a moment, they broke apart. Sherlock smiled down at the doctor then up at the blushing and teary landlady. He giggled and John made to turn when he realized she was still in the room.
"Oops." He giggled, giving Mis. Hudson an apologetic shrug. She just shook it off as if it was nothing.
" I thought I told you dear. Ms. Turner has married ones." As she left to go down to the kitchen to make some tea. John just shook his head, looking up at the Consulting Detective.
" Nothing fazes that woman." Sherlock chuckled and John laughed. He glanced down at the doctor, letting out a sigh of relief. " It's good to be home. You?"
"Most definitely." He replied, placing a kiss on Sherlock's lips. Sherlock cupped John's cheek, kissing him back gently. He savored the moment, slowly deepening the kiss. John wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck before pulling back as an after thought popped in his head. "Oh, what did SHW stand for?" He panted out of breath.
"Sherlock Holmes-Watson." Sherlock answered, realizing the intent. A grin played on his cupid-bow lips and John smiled, kissing him again completely content with having his friend back.