John got out of the cab, a single white rose clutched to his chest, tears silently rolling down his face. He swiped away a few only to make room for the new ones that constantly fell there.
He made his way along the path, weaving through gravestones and shrubbery.
He scanned the names of the graves he was passing. Names of people he didn't know and never will. There was only one name here he knew, as much as he didn't want to.
He stopped himself in front of a black grave engraved with gold writing. A name and dates.
John laid the flower gently atop the grave with tears pouring out of his eyes and making his vision slightly blurred.
This was the 12th time he had visited in the space of 3 days. He tried to resist the pull the grave had on him so he could at least make a start in getting over the….. That event, but every day he found himself stood in the same spot, same amount of tears trailing his face.
John never did much when he came. Sometimes he just stood and observed while shutting out the rest of the world. Others he talked, not about much just Mrs. Hudson who still made a fuss or cases he saw in newspapers or on the news which he thought his friend might have found interesting.
Today however John felt different, more emotional. Today he felt if he talked for long enough he could possibly get a reply. He knew it was ridiculous to think that but he still hoped that it would happen.
"Mrs. Hudson has packer up all of your science equipment, but she doesn't know what to do with it. I told her that I'd sort it out but not even I'm sure." John gave an emotionless chuckle.
"I'm still not getting used to not seeing any of your crazy experiments when I eat dinner or go to the fridge for milk. I wish that you would've gotten some milk at least once, I don't see why you always made a fuss…. But then again I couldn't really get you to do much, working or not." John took some deep breaths before he could continue.
"I'm not angry at you. I know that deep down somewhere that I should be, after you said you lied about everything but I really can't bring myself to care. I know when you're putting on an act; I've lived with it for long enough. I don't believe you would make that up. I refuse to believe that all the good times we had together were just made up to impress me, I just. Can't." John shook his head, a few tears making an escape.
"You told me once not to make people into heroes… I didn't have to, you and your brilliant mind managed that all by yourself. Thank you." John walked over and patter the grave like he always did before he left.
"Thank you so much." John started sobbing and crouched down to lean against the grave.
That night he didn't return to 221B.
That night was the last anyone saw of John Watson.