AN- YAY! I can now say I have actually gone completely insane. Well, It was bound to happen eventually. Here's the fics to prove it, mostly short Post-Reichenbach songfics. Does anyone know of a good mental institute?
Disclaimer: Still don't own any of it. Song- Leave right now by Will Young
Leave right now
The cold wind blew down the streets and whipped round the church spire. John Watson walked quickly onto the sacred grounds, nodding his head to the vicar who smiled sadly in turn, knowing exactly why the doctor was in the graveyard. He had seen all manner of people pass by the Lords gates and he knew instinctively that this wasn't going to be the last time the blond man either.
John made his way through the gravestones until he came to the one he was after. It took a moment for him to recognise it, well it had been three years so many things were bound to have changed. He moved the moss away to stare at the carved characters and took a deep breath as he reread the in scripted name, Sherlock Holmes.
'I'm here, just like I said.' He started, feeling the fool for talking out loud. It wasn't as if the man was actually there.'Though its breaking every rule I've ever made.' He looked round warily as he continued.'My racing heart is just the same. Why make it strong to break it once again?' The doctor felt his insides twinge.'And I'd love to say I do give everything to you, but I can never now be true.' His eyes felt wet as he backed off slightly.
'So I say, I think I'd better leave right now, before I fall any deeper.' For some reason, he felt almost angry at the grave, or more so the lifeless corpse resting inside of it. What was the point?
'I think I'd better leave right now, feeling weaker and weaker.' His legs shook beneath him but he was determined to stay standing.
'Somebody better show me out, before I fall any deeper. I think I'd better leave right now.' John tore his eyes away from the stone to look around the graveyard. It was deserted but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. With a heavy sigh he turned back to the headstone.
'I'm here so please explain. Why you're opening up a healing wound again?' This question was mostly to himself. He didn't quite know why he did this. He should just move on, get on with it. The dead can't come back, after all.
'I'm a little more careful, perhaps it shows, but if I lose the highs, at least I'm spared the lows.' John gave a bitter laugh. Speaking out loud like this felt almost like he was speaking to Sherlock himself. Like he was there again. He felt the lanky arms wrap round him, though he knew it was in his mind again.
'Now I tremble in your arms, what could be the harm to feel my spirit calm?' He asked before realising that he was alone in a graveyard, talking to a grave.
'So I say, I think I better leave right now, before I fall any deeper. I think I better leave right now, feeling weaker and weaker. Somebody better show me out, before I fall any deeper. I think I better leave right now.' The soldier turned to leave, the tears now threatening to overpower him but the anger flared and he turned back in a semi-contained rage.
'I wouldn't know how to say how good it feels seeing you today.' His mind showed him the image of the detective, lips turned upward in that wild-eyed grin he got when faced with particularly tricky puzzles.
'I see you've got your smile back, like you say your right on track.' And now he was talking to a hallucination but at this point, John couldn't find the strength to care.
'But you may never know why once bitten twice is shy.' The words choked in his throat as the tears seeped from the corner of his eyes and trailed lines down his face.
'If I'm proud, perhaps I should explain, I couldn't bear to lose you again.' Now the soldier sank to his knees, the hard ground met him with force that would have any other howling in pain but he was too numb to feel anything.
'I think I'd better leave right now, before I fall any deeper. I think I'd better leave right now, feeling weaker and weaker. Somebody better show me out, before I fall any deeper. I think I'd better leave right now.' John said, still on the ground. His hands dug into the hard dirt beneath him. He knew he should leave but he just couldn't, he couldn't leave the detective, even after the man had left him. A soft handed rested on his shoulders.
'John.' A winter-worn, husky voice rasped. But it's owner was unmistakable. The doctor turned to the detective, mostly in shock. This Sherlock wasn't like any of his previous hallucinations. This Sherlock was beaten and battered, with blood splatters across his ragged shirt.
'John.' The voice said again. The soldier's brow knotted, his hallucinations had never made any noise before.
'John, you idiot. I'm not dead. You are not imagining me.' Sherlock said. John laughed bitterly.
'Sure. And there just happens to be another Sherlock Holmes whose grave is in exactly the same place as yours was. Hmm. Sorry if I don't believe you, old mate, but I'm still in the stage of grief. Flashbacks and hallucinations are common.' He replied. Sherlock slapped him hard.
'No, you imbecile. I'm not dead.' The detective snapped, getting frustrated. The doctor rubbed his stinging cheek as he stared with amazement, his mouth formed and 'O' shape but he didn't manage to make any sound.