John sat uncomfortably alone in the restaurant at a table for two. He straightened his tie for the fifth time in two minutes, unable to keep his sweaty hands still. It was the first blind date he'd been on in a long time. He looked over the menu again, but was barely able to focus on the words.
What if he said something wrong? He'd been wanting company ever since his best friend died, but everyone he met was too ordinary, too boring. Too human.
He missed Sherlock. It had been three years since he'd jumped, three long years of loneliness. John had kept the flat but couldn't bear to stay there alone. It felt wrong, somehow. As if he could only go back knowing Sherlock would be there. Knowing he was alive.
John thought back to the messages he'd had with his date. A friend had introduced him to her a few months ago, and they'd been shyly texting each other since. John had asked to call her a couple times, but she always refused politely, saying she preferred to text. They had finally agreed to meet up here at the restaurant after John's constant nagging.
A waiter came over to John, startling him. "Are you ready to order, sir?"
John smiled and shook his head. "No, thank you. I'd prefer to wait until my date has arrived."
The waiter nodded and left, disappearing into the kitchen. He'd looked slightly familiar, but then, John did receive a lot of patients. It was hard to keep them all straight.
He looked around at the other customers, taking in their dress, the small details anyone else would miss. Anyone but Sherlock. John sighed. He'd been trying to hone his skills, to see and observe. It was his tribute to Sherlock, to show him he still believed in him.
John sucked in a breath as he caught sight of a woman. She was standing by the door to the restaurant, looking around uncertainly, as if for a date she was supposed to meet. Could it be Sarah? His heartbeat quickened in anticipation.
She was petite, with large brown eyes and light wavy hair. The dress she wore was black, plain, and not too revealing. A strand of pearls hung around her neck. She was gorgeous, John thought. He straightened his tie self-consciously.
The woman's gaze swept over the room, stopping as she caught sight of John. She smiled and began to make her way over to him. Sarah Harler. The way she wove between tables, gliding gracefully across the floor, made him feellightheaded.
He stood quickly as she approached his table, moving to the other side to hold her chair for her. She smiled at him, seeming a bit confused. His stomach dropped. John silently cursed himself as she walked past him toward another man.
He should have known. Sighing, he pushed the chair back under the table and sat down in his own. What if Sarah never showed? It could have been a trick all along.
Just then John's phone buzzed in his pocket. Surprised, he drew it out cautiously and checked the screen. It was a text from Sarah. He opened it, dread pooling within him.
Look up.
-SH
John's heart stopped as he slowly lifted his head. He saw her. She was tall and slender, her hair dark and curly. There was no mistaking her. He'd known Sarah for a while, though she'd always gone by a different name. One terrible day, she'd left him all alone in the world, saving his life and breaking his heart.
He couldn't move. He remembered his last words to her, asking her for one more miracle. He believed in her, and she came back. She was his one true friend.
She was Sherlock.