I was so alone…
Almost three years were passed from the Sherlock's death, three long years, and a lot of things had changed. All now thought him as an impostor, a fraud and a liar, but only four persons had stayed faithful to him: Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade and me. Every day I went over his grave, to change the old flowers and put in new ones, to tell him what was going on, the troubles that Lestrade was having without him ... but it was not the same thing. Talking with a cool marble tomb was not as the same thing as hear his insightful comments, his brilliant deductions. I missed him. I did not want to show to the others my true feelings and I did not like to be treated with respect by all, like I could burst into tears: I would never have done it. Even if the pain was excruciating, I never showed weakness in front of them. He would not have done it. Even today I was there, in front of the cold stone engraved with his name.
-Good morning Sherlock. Today is officially three years. How many things have changed since that day. But I still hope, you know? I still think that you're alive. You're not a guy who dies so easily. I wonder what plan you have devised, I would love to know. Your intelligence scares me sometimes, you know? You frighten me, but at the same time I admire you. I've never known anyone like you. - I smiled, to myself, to those words.
-Do you remember our first meeting? You had me all figured out at first glance. "Unbelievable," I thought. Ah! I miss those moments. I ... I miss ... –
I could not contain myself, I burst into tears right there, on the ground covered by slight turfs, collapsing onto my knees and touching your tombstone.
- Why the hell did you leave Sherlock? Why did you did such a thing! I hate you!-
Tears flowed incessant on my face. I could not take anymore. I got up, with great effort, and I placed the flowers I had brought that day.
-These are for you. I hope you like them. - I said, my voice still broken because of the tears and, after a final farewell, I turned around, walking away. I was going to take a taxi when, suddenly I received a message.
Come back, please. –SH
I looked at the initials, with a look of surprise on my face. It could not be true. It was not possible. It was just my imagination, fervid, as usual. Yet the message was there, it was all written there, on the mobile phone. I turned back and went back to the grave, running. And suddenly there he is, that scarf unmistakable, that coat flapping because of the wind. And that face that, after three years, I had not forgotten. I walked in disbelief. My legs felt heavy and I struggled to walk. As I stood in front of him, he smiled.
-I didn't thought that you were able to cry like a baby, you know, John? A man of war should be strong. –
I looked at him for a moment then I punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground, but he did not flinch, in fact, he laughed. I took him by the scarf, giving him an angry look.
-Why? Just tell me why ... -
-I had to protect you. I had to protect everyone. -
-You are an idiot - I said and I kissed him, hugging him.
He had returned at last. I was so lonely before knowing him, and after his "death", but now I knew that I would never suffer the loneliness.