Darkness surrounding him, John limbed hurriedly through the cold grave yard. His worn, stained clothes clung to his thin freezing body as the heavy rain crashed continuously on to him. John's blonde hair was plastered to his face. Deep blue eyes circled with dark purple, darted from grave to grave, searching. His skin as white as chalk. He stopped suddenly, dropping his walking stick and sinking to his knees. Pushing against the tome stone with his arms to keep him from simply falling to the ground, the red spray paint on the black marble stone was finally fading. The paint read 'Fake Genius.' John pulled back his arms to hold himself, it was as if he was afraid of falling apart. Hot tears streamed down his face as he began to shake violently. The golden letters read Sherlock Holmes. John cried out as he began to scrape and scratch at the paint, letting out his anger and frustration His arm slipped and he ended up on the soaking ground. Giving up on anger he went back to sobbing, giving in to the emptiness he felt. Whispering here and their.
"Sherlock, please. I'm falling apart without you. Please for me…..I didn't know it…But I need you….I love you."
John took the gun from his pocket.
"Sherlock…."