John's gaze rested in the black gravestone. He was stand there over two hours and it was begun to rain again. Many times he was tried to speak, but there weren't any sounds, no voice left. Until he closed his eyes for a moment.

"You know, it took year, but I finally moved on. I found Mary. Or Mary found me, can't say...

.

When you died, it was a strike in the heart, but I moved on. Found her. You would have loved her, she is…

…was wonderful. We got married. Can you believe it?" He laughed nervously, sadly.

"We planed that…

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We planed so many things.

.

It all is gone now.

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She died week ago. Car accident. She died instantly.

.

.

.

God, I can't… I just can't…

.

.

.

.

Three years now. All this in three years. I can't anymore…

I don't know what to do Sherlock. I miss her.

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I miss you.

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Second strike in the heart.

.

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They say that I have to talk someone…

I have talked all this time. After war, after you, but now… I can't speak anymore. It hurt. It hurt too much. I want this all end. I can't think anymore. Nothing. Everything is just gone. I have lost too many who I love. I'm sorry Sherlock. I know that you want me to fight. Continue forward. But I'm tired of waiting. I can't… Sorry. I'm so so sorry."

First time he cried. He watched the dark sky and his tears mixed up in the rain. Slowly he calmed down. Slowly, painfully he watched the grave again.

"My friend… My dearest best friend. I have to go now. I don't come back again. I'm sorry. I know that you never wished anything like this to me. And I never expected that I would…

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I'm tired Sherlock. Just too tired. Have to go, I really have to go.

Goodbye, Sherlock."

Last time his hand wiped the stone.

Last time he saluted.

Last time he turned and walked away.