Because I do.
It has been one terrible year. No it wasn't new years. It was but instead the one year anniversary of the Sherlock's death. If you could even consider it as much of the celebration that the word anniversary made it out to be. John of course never thought that Sherlock should have died that way even if everything he was had just been a lie. Though John didn't believe that for a second. There was something about the way his voice sounded before he jumped that made this everything was just a lie. Oh god how he hoped it was all just lies. Why did he lie though? Why couldn't he say? Sherlock's last words of course had been lies. Should he be surprised? That day had been the only day John had really seen Holmes cry.
Everything about today was wrong. had invited him to dinner at her own flat. John had agreed although he knew going back to Baker street today wouldn't be easy. However he woman needed someone just as much as he did today.
On the way to Baker Street John had a feeling that he needed to see Sherlock's grave. Just one last time. He didn't need to go through yet another year like the last. Where everyday was a pain. So he wanted to say Good-bye in hopes that maybe it would help him.
Cold air ran its hands across John's face. It played with his hair and bit at his neck. The grass crunched loudly under his feet. The lone man slowly made his way to his best friends grave.
Someone stood there. On top of Sherlock's grave. The figure wasn't facing John. Anger bubbled up inside of him. Damn reporters. What bastards couldn't they just forget this all already. John moved quickly now.
"Hey you!" He called out.
The reporter jumped slightly. There was something so familiar about the reporters curly black hair.
John Watson's heart stopped as the figure slowly turned around.
How? No he was just going crazy. This wasn't possible. He had finally gone insane. But there he was. Sherlock Holmes. Standing there on his own grave with a smiled pasted across his lips. A far to cheeky smile.
John quickly moved towards Sherlock. Then man opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the impact of Johns fist contacting Sherlock's cheek. In surprise Holmes stumbled backwards almost falling.
"John?" the man gasped. Oh how John had missed the sound of that voice. Not enough to not be angry though. Instead of talking John simply punched Sherlock in the shoulder, chest, stomach, then face. The army doctor through another punch but his wrists were grabbed by Sherlock.
"Let go of me," John growled.
"Nope,' Sherlock replied.
"I hate you. Let me go!"
"No you don't."
"Yes I d…" John began but had been stopped when Sherlock pulled him into a tight hug. Watson couldn't help it anymore. Everything just make pouring out of his mouth as the tears fell down his face.
"Why Sherlock"
"What?"
"Why did you leave me like that?"
"Because I had to," Sherlock explained as he stroked the other mans hair.
"Why?"
"To save you, idiot," Sherlock pulled out of the hug and rested his hands on Johns cheeks.
"What?"
"I did it to save your life. Moriarty was going to kill Lestrade, , and you if I didn't jump,"Holmes explained.
No longer could John hate Sherlock. Not after the shitty year it had been. He just couldn't hate this man. Without thinking or meaning to, John leaned up and put his lips to Sherlock's. The man froze in shock but soon too relaxed into the kiss.
"You know I don't forgive you right?" John pulled away.
"Yes,but I hope that will soon change," Sherlock explained.
"Ya, so do I. We better be going. is expecting me for dinner."
"Do you think she'll have enough food for three?"
"Of course. We always have a third place mat set out for you," John told the man as he slipped his hand into Sherlock.
"Oh? Why?"
"Well I guess just maybe in the impossible chance that you may have shown up. Plus it helped fill in the gap you had left," Watson explained.
"Mmm~ I love you Watson," Holmes pecked Johns cheek.
"People are sure to talk now."
"John Watson the broken army doctor and Sherlock Holmes the dead man inseparable even by death," Sherlock smiled.
"I kinda like that."
"So do I."
The broken Army Doctor and the Dead Man walked together. Hand in hand. Heading to the warm home they had both missed so much the last year. But that home just couldn't been the same without the other man in it.