"Sherlock was not the kind of man to say how he was feeling...unless he was feeling bored – in which case it was made painfully obvious. And this John knew...quite well, almost to the point where he completely ignored Sherlock's apparent emotionlessness. During cases every once in a while Sherlock might get too excited for the occasion, but people just chalked that up as Sherlock. That was who he was...a high-functioning, bad timing, antisocial, sociopath.
John, however, was almost the complete opposite – unless he was angry beyond belief, in which case, to tell whether he's upset or plotting you're untimely death can never be positively determined. John was a man who expressed how he felt. He kept Sherlock in check, made sure he didn't get too excited at the wrong moments, and was one of the most human human beings in the world.
He laughed, he smiled, he frowned, he plotted, he fell in love.
And we all know the story, Sherlock jumped, John fell in love, Sherlock came back, and John was married to Mary.
John was happy, Mary was happy, and Sherlock...well, Sherlock, was Sherlock. There really was no other way to describe the man. What no one expected was Sherlock to turn to drugs...why would he? He was clean, he was the man that couldn't be killed. He had so many people behind him, caring for him, loving him. But did he really understand that?
For what it's worth, Mary and John, they are two people worthy of each other; always have been, always will be. But maybe it would have been better if they had never met. Sherlock would never have shot, John would never have had to endure the betrayal of yet another close person. John and Mary, of course have a beautiful girl, they named her Sherly, after John's best friend. She is a gorgeous little thing, she has her father's eyes, and her godfather's name. So she will obviously grow up to be someone important – beyond important.
Back to Sherlock though, yes, he went back to drugs. He moved John's chair, claiming it was blocking his view of the kitchen, but he had never needed to see the kitchen before. What made it so necessary now? Nothing, he just missed his blogger. He would never say so though...he was who he was, which made it impossible for him to do such a thing.
He never said it, he showed it. He showed it by throwing himself off a building, he showed it by staying away for two years, he showed it by allowing himself to be subject to torture, he showed it by shooting a man in the head...he showed it by not doing anything. But his love was so painfully obvious it was overlooked. Looking back it shines like a light in a dark room.
But today, today wasn't about looking back as much as it was looking into the future. John and Mary will continue to love their child. Anderson will continue to conspire. Moriarty will continue his death. Mycroft will continue being the British government. And life will continue.
Once, Sherlock faked his own death...
And I hope to God...that is all this is, even if we have to endure this for another two years...please let it all be fake."
And with that Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade let out a sob, because no matter how much he wanted to believe it he knew that the man inside the coffin was Sherlock...And this time he wasn't coming back.