It was perfect weather for a funeral. Grey crowds threatening rain, wet turf that filled the air with a dank smell and no sound but the cry of crows in the trees nearby. Weather so miserable and hopeless it was almost poetic.
A complete contrast to the last funeral John Watson had been to.
It had been a fine day when Sherlock Holmes was farewelled in the church cemetery outside of London. John had been uncomfortably warm in his black suit as he'd walked from the tube station to avoid the press staking out the taxi ranks around town to snap a picture of him attending the fraudster's funeral.
It had been a small crowd of misfits in the graveyard that day with Mrs Hudson sobbing into a hanky at his left and Lestrade standing listlessly to his right. Molly Hooper had stood apart from them strangely stoic as she listed to the minister deliver his speech. Of all the people John had expected to be composed at Sherlock's service it hadn't been her.
Six months later found John in another graveyard, this time in Birmingham, to pay his last respects to Uncle Alfie. To be honest John wasn't sure why he'd come at all, he hardly remembered the old man and the memories he could recall were not fond. He felt no great lamentation or sense of duty to attend so he supposed he was only there because the occasion broke the dull monotony of recent months.
With no job to be on time for and no friends other than Stamford who allowed him to sleep in his basement apartment most of John's days blurred together, only separated by the hours of peaceless sleep. Every night in his dreams Sherlock fell and every night John ran to catch him. But he was always too late.
John pulled his phone out of his pocket and sighed at the zero signal message on the screen. He felt compelled to leave as quickly as possible but at the same time dreaded going home. All that waited for him there were piles of unwashed laundry, overdue bills and the uneasy air between him and Stamford who he owed four months of rent to.
"John! John Watson!"
John turned around to see someone running towards him down the pebbled path and groaned quietly. This was exactly the situation he had tried to avoid by slipping out as soon as the casket was wheeled out. If he had wanted to mingle with distant relatives and Uncle Alfie's nursing team he would have joined the mourners for tepid tea and stale biscuits.
"Hi!" the woman's stylish shoes clicked on the stones underfoot when she stopped in front of the doctor wearing a bright smile totally inappropriate for a graveyard.
"It is John Watson isn't it?" she went on when she got no answer. "From London?"
"Yes, yes it is. What do you want?" John answered sharply with some preemptive bitterness.
He had become accustomed to strangers in the street stopping him to ask about Sherlock Holmes and he wasn't in the mood to deal with another betrayed fan or disenchanted blogger. Not in a muddy cemetery full of long forgotten dead with rain ready to fall and no escape plan. Not now, not today, not anymore. The weight of Sherlock's ghost was heavy enough without the unwanted public opinion and persecution.
The woman sensed his mood and lost some of her good cheer. She straightened her back and raised her chin to look him evenly in the eye, a stance that said she wouldn't be taking any flack. She didn't seem overly offended by his bluntness as her pleased expression stayed but the exuberance radiating from her as she ran had faded significantly.
"You don't remember me do you?" she asked matter of factly with an accent that was definitely local and without the air of high society.
John scanned her face and concentrated for a few seconds as they stood a polite distance apart. There was something familiar about her cat like hazel eyes and little nose that he couldn't place. Her hair was a boring shade of light brown which curled slightly at the tips but he couldn't see any distinguishing marks like freckles or acre scars under her impeccable makeup. Overall her face was rather ordinary but not unappealing, the sort you find nice and welcoming but not very memorable.
By her thick woolen coat and low heels he surmised the stranger was sensible which was a little surprising as he put her age somewhere under thirty. John guessed she must have gotten a job out of high school and learned life's lessons early unlike the rest of Generation Y who relied on the status of directionless student to get an easy ride. In fact the way her ankles lined up as she stood was almost military.
A few more seconds passed and John had to admit defeat knowing that Sherlock would have summed this mystery woman up with half the effort and time to spare.
"Sorry," he apologized with a bit of regret. "I don't think so."
The woman could hear the apology in his voice and let a sympathetic smile cross her features.
"I'm Tess," she said slipping her hand into his. "Richard's daughter."
Her smile widened at his adorable face of surprise and suddenly John could see his cousin in his daughter's face. They had the same bright smile that lifted the gloom and on second inspection the same eyes. The handshake immediately strengthened and John quickly recalled everything he could about her family.
Richard had been the only child of his father's brother and fifteen years John's senior. Growing up he had been a sort of surrogate older brother for John who relished having someone who could play the games his sister wouldn't. It had been Richard who had taught John how to throw a rugby ball and had taken him for his first pint when he came of age, standing in for John's late father.
They had never been tight the way some first cousins were with the distance between London and Swinton too great in a day before social media aided long distance friendships. None the less Richard had been a good friend and John was genuinely saddened when he died.
"That's right!" he said with more enthusiasm than he'd had in six months. "Tessa! Hardly recognized you, it's been what? Ten years?"
"About that," Tess agreed and the corner of her mouth jerked in a sad way.
"Oh that's right," John immediately regretted his folly. The last time he'd seen his cousin's children they'd been sitting in the front row of the funeral home while they listened to eulogies honouring their dad, their mother nowhere to be seen.
It had been a freak accident that killed Richard the afternoon he walked from the milk bar into the path of a speeding car and John remembered having to rush to his commanding officer and request a leave of absence before driving all night to make the service. He hadn't had the time to find out what would become of Richard's estate before returning to base and his good intentions of following up on the kids were forgotten amongst the demands of army life.
"Nice guy your dad," John continued after a second to phrase his words tenderly and cupped his hands over hers. "I always had a lot of time for him when we caught up. Damn shame what happened but he was a good guy."
"No," Tess said with a sigh. "Dad was great guy. Never mind though, I loved him and he loved me."
John nodded awkwardly and tried to think of where to take the conversation next. Somehow 'So what's been happening these past ten years?' didn't seem to cut it. He thought of asking about Uncle Alfie but didn't really want to have the first conversation with Tess in a decade to be exclusively about dead relatives. He'd seen a wedding ring glitter on her left hand but he honestly wasn't interested enough to ask.
That was the cruel thing about depression. You didn't care about anything even when you knew you should.
"We're you making a getaway?" Tess fortunately moved the conversation along herself. "I saw you slip out just before. You took my spot actually, I was hoping for the ejector seat so I could avoid the old dears. Never cared much for musk and misery, to be truthful I only showed today because Dad would have liked it. Great Uncle Alfie was one cantankerous old shit."
"Yeah I was," John admitted feeling a bit embarrassed by her observation but strangely comforted knowing he wasn't the only one apathetic to the old man's demise. "I don't suppose I could use your phone? I was trying to call a taxi but there's no signal on mine."
Tess made a small noise of agreement and dug around in her handbag for the mobile but one quick look on the screen left her dismayed.
"Sorry no signal on mine either. This really is a dead zone- no pun intended."
John knew he shouldn't laugh, they were surrounded by tombstones after a funeral but he had no hope against Richard's legacy smile. The permanent dismal expression he'd been wearing for months broke as he flashed his teeth and the small laugh that rattled up his throat felt unnatural.
It was a stupid joke but he felt better. Not by much, but better.
"Never mind," he dismissed the attempt as his good mood faded quickly. "I'll try the main road."
"Where you heading?" Tess asked as she clipped her bag back together. "I can probably give you a ride, my car's just parked down the street."
"The train station," John kicked himself mentally for sounding so eager. He might be up to his eyes in debt but he wasn't reduced to begging just yet.
"Sure," Tess' shoes sent more stones flying as she started towards the gate. "Where are you stationed at the minute?"
"I'm out of the service now actually," John walked slightly slower than usual to compensate for her shoes on uneven ground. "I've been living in London for the past year or so."
"In that case I can take you home if you want," Tess' voice picked up with sudden goodwill. "I'm heading there myself, I figured this was the best opportunity to give the car a good run before its next service."
"I don't want to trouble you," John declined gratefully but lamented his chance to save on a return train ticket. Cash was not something he had in abundance but at the same time didn't want to be stuck in a car for two hours with someone he hardly knew, kin or not.
He just wanted to be left alone and an off peak train carriage could offer that.
"It's no trouble," Tess said with a shrug. "I'll just be driving an empty car back otherwise so you may as well jump in the passenger side."
John would have refused again but the ambivalent way Tess phrased her logic made him accept. He got the distinct impression that this was a no-strings-attached favour and Tess wouldn't be bothered if he sat in sullen silence the whole way.
"So long as you're sure," he said containing his relief at saving the last few bank notes left in his wallet.
"Yeah absolutely," Tess assured him and pulled her keys from her jacket pocket.
Not far off a white Volkswagen Golf flashed in answer to the unlocking signal and John thought to himself Tess must have married up. It was possible to service a car loan on a humble salary but owning a top grade vehicle in London was extravagance so he guessed there was some spare money to burn.
It wasn't a bitter observation even though thinking of his current finances made John miserable. Between losing her father and an absent mother Tess had taken a hard knock in her teens so the way he saw it she deserved the perks of marrying rich.
Tess jumped in first and threw the rubbish scattered over the passenger side into the back before waving John in.
"I apologize if you don't like Credence," she said as the distinctive voice of John Fogarty blasted from the stereo system which she quickly turned down. "I lost the radio an hour outside of London so I threw it on to rock out to."
"No problem," John said with his second smile of the day and buckled in. He remembered listening to Credence Clearwater Revival all Christmas holidays the year his mother had shipped him off to stay with relatives.
Tess didn't say anything as she carefully backed out of the parking space and checked her mirrors. John ran his eye over the features of the Volkswagon approvingly and was curious to see how it would perform on the freeway. Cars had never been a passion of his but having only taxis for transport did make him miss the thrill of driving.
This was also something new for him and John had taken to relishing anything new he could find in his life. New things distracted him from old things, like Sherlock.
"Did you have to take a day off for this?" Tess asked once they were driving steady down the empty street.
"No I'm," John thought of the least shameful way to say unemployed, "between jobs at the moment."
"Good," Tess said unexpectedly. "Doing the same thing forever makes you stagnant and restricted. I had massive culture shock when I left the army for the civilian world but I'm glad I did, would have missed out on heaps otherwise."
"You were in the army?" John asked with surprise.
"Yeah straight out of high school," Tess answered and took off carefully from the traffic lights. "Nothing as impressive as you mind, did five years in the transport core with two tours of Afganistan before leaving to see what else there is to do in life."
They spent the next few minutes swapping notes on bases and tour dates and John was relieved to discover they hadn't been abroad at the same time. He would have felt awkward if he'd given Tess an order without knowing who she was but as Tess pointed out, he would have had no idea. For most of her military career she had served under her married name of Hayworth.
"Married young?" The surprises kept coming. By her age John suspected her marriage to be recent.
"Stupid I know," the driver said with another warm smile. "But that's what happens when two young stupid people fall in love."
"Well it clearly worked out," John didn't confirm or deny that statement because it might reveal his true romantic side.
"Suppose," Tess said quietly and her wedding band scratched the steering wheel as she took a corner.
Deciding it best to not analyze that answer John just bobbed his head a little and looked out the window to show his disinterest. The next question would have been about kids but if Tess' marriage was on shaky ground it probably wasn't prudent.
"So how do you keep busy now?" That question was wide enough not to cause offence.
"I work for my husband's company," she answered absently as she checked her mirrors for the car overtaking them. "It's a bit boring but not too bad. They make me work from home because I have a nasty habit of telling the truth but that's fine with me since the briefcase wankers annoy me."
John would have laughed at that but it reminded him too much of Sherlock so he moved the conversation back onto the banal.
"Hear anything much from your brothers?"
He knew that Richard had two sons a fair bit older than their sister but could not recall their names. John's mother had shown him the 'Welcome to the World' announcement cards she'd put on the mantelpiece but family photos were so uninspired and staged they all blurred together in the memory.
"Barney's in New Zealand running a real estate business and apparently doing well with it. Once he cleaned himself up he took the domestic route getting himself a wife and kids. Facebook keeps us up to date but that's about it," Tess explained a little nonchalantly. "We'd probably be uncomfortable doing much else. Cosmo only calls when he wants money but I suppose that way at least I know he's alive."
"What does he do?" John asked then regretted it.
"Do? He does nothing," Tess crunched her face up in disgust with vehemence in her voice. "Get's that from Mum. He gads about all over Europe latching himself onto various patrons like a parasite until he sucks them dry, gets into trouble somehow then calls me to bail him out. Believes himself to be a tortured soul bursting with unlimited creative potential that cannot be bridled by everyday responsibilities but what it really boils down to is that he's an irresponsible selfish dick. Always has been, always will be."
There was an awkward silence then that was only filled by the lyrics of Fortunate Son until Tess broke it.
"Sorry," she said meaning it. "I didn't mean to vent, he just shits me is all."
"Understandable," John said grimly with a knowing nod and thought of Harry. "I have one of those myself."
"Yes I hear they're quite common now," Tess' smile returned and she indicated for the freeway run on. "Most families have one."
The rain came down a little while later in hard relentless sheets so conversation died as Tess put all her concentration into driving. The only time she spoke was to apologize for not putting the heater on when she saw John do it himself, claiming she never felt the cold.
As far as people went John decided Tess was all right. A friendly, independent young woman kind enough to do a thankless favour for someone she hardly knew. However John was grateful for the bad weather as it provided a good reason not to talk.
Depression made conversation a struggle and when he was forced to engage with others he found it difficult to focus. It was as if his thoughts were anchored to his misery and despite how hard he pulled to break free the weight would drag him down again.
The downpour didn't let up until London and by then it was dark with the demister working full force to stop the windows from clouding over. John was lost in morose introspection for so long he didn't realize they'd stopped until the engine switched off. He didn't recall telling Tess his address so he turned to her with a puzzled expression.
"Food," she said simply and got her handbag off the back seat.
Food wasn't a great concern of John Waton's these days as he seldom had any appetite and when he did eat it was bad food. His poor diet could be seen in his expanding waist line and grey skin but organizing healthy meals seemed like such an arduous chore he often resorted to take out. But he hadn't eaten since breakfast and had nothing in the fridge at home so accepted the dinner invitation.
After a few blocks Tess opened the door to a small Chinese restaurant with a handful of diners sitting quietly on plastic chairs at tables covered in butcher's paper. If this had been a date John would have insisted on finding somewhere better but as this was just two hungry people finding a meal he obediently sat at where the waitress directed him.
He scanned the menu with little interest but was pleased with the pricing. Perhaps if he offered to pay for dinner he could wiggle out of splitting the petrol bill.
"Do you need to call your husband to say where you are?" he asked absently as Tess took off her coat and scarf to show the long sleeved black dress beneath.
"No need," she answered curtly and snatched a menu off the table.
The meal was surprising good for the price and the dinner conversation stayed light, touching on things in the news and random trivia. Tess mentioned something about recent travel so John stretched the topic out to get them through the main course and deep fried ice-cream. He declined the suggestion of green tea to leave sooner so Tess excused herself to use the bathroom.
John was counting out the last of his cash when the little bell above the door chimed and two people he desperately wanted to avoid walked in. It was too late to hide as Sergeant Donovan spotted him the second Anderson closed the door.
The three of them were locked in a stunned triangle with no one knowing how to get the unpleasantness dealt with quickly. John prayed they would just ignore him and move on but had no luck.
"Well it's been a while," Anderson said in that annoying drawl of his.
"Yes it has," John said and hoped that was the end of it.
"Nobody blames you, you know," Sally Donovan said in a voice she probably thought was sympathetic but still rang clear of self righteousness.
"Blame me for what exactly?" John asked darkly gearing up for a fight.
"Sherlock Holmes," Donovan went on. "It's not your fault he made you go along with him. He had just about everyone fooled into thinking he was a genius. We're the only ones who saw through him from the start."
John had found that anger was one of the few emotions he could feel through the consuming depression that had fogged his life recently and he felt it now. He hated how these two incompetent flat foots stood in front of him glowing with smug pride thinking they were the only ones to disbelieve Sherlock's supposed act when in reality they didn't have the combined sense to punch through a wet paper bag.
They had hated Sherlock from the start and were now basking in the glow of his defamation, glad that their spiteful fantasy had finally come true. Nothing would ever convince John that Sherlock had been anything less than he'd appeared, or that Moriarty was terrific actor. Not even Sherlock's own words before he jumped to his death.
"You should come down to the station," Anderson added. "There are programs for people like you. Therapy for victims of crime."
A wave of heat rushed through John as fury burned away his inertia and he clenched his fist for a punch.
"The only victim here is going to be-"
"Am I interrupting something?" Tessa asked loudly from behind Donovan. "I sure hope so."
They all turned to see Tessa standing to attention with her eyes narrowed on the unwelcome two and her plain face set in cold contempt. She had the air of a duelist confident that her shot could outmatch the inferior opponents' and would kill painfully. Donovan's eyes lingered on the younger woman for a moment then dismissed her as nobody important and turned back to John.
"Look all I'm saying is that I warned you from the start to stay away from Sherlock Holmes. He was just a lunatic looking for a way to get off by creating crimes to amuse himself."
Tess made a theatric thoughtful noise then said, "Did you know that straight away or only after he turned down your romantic advances?"
For the first time in months John felt great. The bombshell detonated with spectacular success as guilty embarrassment covered Donovan's face before she swapped it for fury. Anderson's jaw dropped and he gawked to his sometimes lover with even less colour in his face than usual.
Tess kept her pensive expression in place but there were glimmers of amusement flickering in her eyes. John meanwhile was wearing a wide smirk of satisfying revenge.
"And I take it your ring is off being cleaned?" Tess went on before either of them could protest innocence or hurl a curse.
"What ring?" Donovan snapped defensively not realizing she'd fallen right into another trap.
"Your wedding ring," Tess explained and jabbed a finger at Anderson. "The one that matches his."
"They're not married," John said in a hurry to help humiliate the pair.
"Oh I see," Tess feigned surprise and nodded her head dramatically. "So where would your spouse be tonight Mr Anderson? Home alone waiting for you to return from a late shift? Walking the dog before bed? Tucking the kids in?"
"Where's yours?" he sneered trying to redirect the shame. He'd seen the ring on her finger, he could play this game just as well as she could.
"Dead," Tess said simply.
That single word took the smile from John's face.
"We were just leaving so please take our table," Tess made a slight wave with her hand towards the table. The motion reminded John of how the King would signal for a headman to execute a traitor.
"Do enjoy the meal. It's reasonable food for a cheap price but," she let the sentence hang as she lent in close to Anderson, "not as cheap as you two."
She then grabbed her jacket from the chair and motioned for John to follow her out. The bell over the door chimed shrilly from being hit so hard and John had to jog to catch her up the street. Tessa pulled her coat on viciously like one being escorted to court martial and swung her handbag so hard John thought she wanted to swing it into the side of someone's head. Probably the cheating couple's back in the restaurant.
"Thanks for doing that," John's breath turned to clouds in the icy air. "You didn't need to but it was brilliant."
Tess snapped her head to face him so suddenly he jumped.
"No," she denied firmly with a scowl. "It was low and nasty but nothing less than what they deserved. When you're dealing with scum a certain amount of condescension is necessary to fight on their level."
"I'm sorry too by the way," John wanted to say that before she really lost her temper and stopped listening.
"Don't be," she shot him down and stepped onto the road. "There are arseholes everywhere that's hardly your fault."
The two of them had to hurry out of the way of an oncoming cab so John didn't correct her until they were safely on the pavement opposite.
"I meant about your husband," he explained a little short on breath. "I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't know," Tess snapped impatiently. "How could you?"
"I'm still sorry," John said which brought her to a stop.
Tess put her hand over her eyes and pinched her temples with her fingertips like someone suffering a migraine. She took a deep breath then shakily blew out a large icy cloud before taking another breath in. John put a hand out to touch her then thought better and retracted his arm. There was a decent chance she might strike him in her distressed state so he stood beside her patiently waiting.
Half a minute later Tess lowered her hand and looked at John with a calm expression. There were thankfully no tears in her eyes and when she spoke it was smooth and sincere.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I appreciate that but let's not dwell on it."
"Absolutely."
For the first time John was with someone who truly understood what he wanted. Sherlock hadn't been his husband or anything remotely romantic but he knew how it felt to have your only constant companion ripped out of your life, how it left you empty and incomplete. He didn't want people to convey their sympathies or assure him of their understanding, he just wanted time alone to deal with it himself.
They walked back to the car in heavy silence and the only thing said for the next half hour was directions from the GPS. When they pulled up out the front of Stamford's house Tess sat stoically looking at the dark street ahead. The engine hummed and the hand brake clicked when she pulled it into place but Tess didn't lead the goodbye like he expected.
John waited a moment more then conceded to having to do it himself. "Well thank you for the ride, it was great help. Good to see you again Tessa if you're ever-"
"It doesn't get any easier," Tess cut him off abruptly but kept her eyes focused on the darkness.
"Sorry what?" John froze half way through removing his seat belt.
"The grief," Tess turned to face him with a sad expression. "I spent a year travelling to get away from it but no matter where I went I would always think 'Charles would love to see this' and have to remember he's no longer here."
"Look I know you're trying to help but-"
"But you will eventually find a way to make it manageable," she finished.
"Ok," John said slowly and was about to leave it there but the question that had nagged him since the restaurant escaped his mouth. "How did you know by the way?"
"About what?" Tessa asked clueless.
"Sergeant Donovan. I mean the affair you could tell by the ring but how did you know about Sherlock turning her down? He never even told me that."
"Let's just say I am very familiar with the expression of a scorned woman," Tessa said mysteriously and tapped the steering wheel awkwardly. "I saw it on her face when she mentioned Sherlock Holmes."
"Was that something you saw a lot of in the army?"
John meant that to be a joke to lighten the mood, a bad one admittedly but Tessa didn't laugh.
"No you see a lot of it when you marry someone you're not supposed to," she answered grimly with a sharp look that told him the conversation was over.
John took that as his cue to leave.
"All right. Well thanks again and we'll talk soon huh?" he said with no intention of keeping that promise. Tessa was a nice girl but there was some very heavy baggage attached to her and he had enough of his own to sort through.
"Sure," Tess said with one more of Richard's smiles but she struggled to get it through her downcast mood. "Good night John."
The little white car pulled away from the curb and John watched it cruise down the street, slow at the bottom then pull away towards the main road. The noise of the engine died after a few seconds and he tried to find his house key as he walked towards the house.
Once inside he closed the door quietly in consideration of Stamford already asleep upstairs and went to the kitchen for a cup of tea before bed never expecting to see Tessa Heyworth again.
He was wrong.