Fic inspired by the song:
Say Something by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'll be the one, if you want me to.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I am feeling so small.
It was over my head
I know nothing at all.
And I will stumble and fall.
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
And anywhere, I would have followed you.
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
Say something...
Post Reichenbach Fall:
John was in the cab, heading over to the cemetery where Sherlock was... was buried. John's throat caught and he turned to look out the window of the cab, making it obvious he didn't want any small talk at the moment. The cabbie understood this right away of course, after learning where he was to take his customer; he had taken people to the cemetery before, he knew that no one wanted to engage in conversation of any sort.
John visited his grave very few times since the fall. He never felt Sherlock was truly there. It was absurd; this impossible man could never be... dead. He couldn't be six feet under the ground, stiff and cold, more pale than he already was. No way he couldn't ever go on a rant again about how he was able to solve a case by a simple deduction of the man's morning routine. No way he couldn't ever argue with John or Mrs. Hudson again about the state he left the flat in after a particularly bad experiment. There was no way he could be gone forever.
The first time he went the cemetery for Sherlock it was when he was first lowered into the ground. John clearly went to the funeral, it was for his best friend. It was a closed casket funeral with an intimate group of friends and family.
Maybe if the casket was open, perhaps it would have been more confirming to John and would have snuffed out all suspicions of Sherlock being alive somehow. Though this was illogical because John was there when he had fallen. He checked his pulse, he saw him fall. John is a doctor, so he made absolutely no mistake confirming his death. Though, there was this nagging feeling that he was still out there solving crimes, waiting for the right moment to sneak up on John and be found perched on the couch in his mind palace asking for tea as if it was any other day.
Despite this, he pushed on and went to the grave with Mrs. Hudson who had offered to go with for his support. Though, he knew she only brought up the idea to help herself through it. John was still tremendously upset when he saw the headstone, even with his suspicions of Sherlock's wherabouts. It's like when you have a terrible, awful nightmare where someone you love gets hurt or dies and you wake up to reality, but its still playing in your head as if it to make it become truth.
The next time wasn't until several months later. It was Christmas. Their first Christmas apart. The time after that was when his sister Harry was sent to the hospital due to liver problems from her acoholism. He had no one to comfort him. Not to say no one was willing to offer a cuppa to help him cope, but none of them allowed John the relief he yearned for. When he went to the grave, it was as a last resort, fearing it may make him feel worse. But as he sat there next to the cold marble and began talking aloud his doubts and troubles, he felt as if someone was listening. As if he was there with him.
He had went a few more times for various reasons, but mainly veered away from it. He had realized soon after the time he visited after what happened to his sister that it was nonsensical for Sherlock to be alive, that when he went that day it helped him realize that Sherlock was gone. He was looking over him, he supposed, but the connection he made between Sherlock and the cemetery, that was previously detached, allowed him to realize the truth of the situation.
This realization occurred slowly. But now as he makes his way to Sherlock's grave, there is still a silver of hope that he is still alive. And it is soon to be shattered. Mix in the facts that John had seen his death and that the years had been slowly slipping by since the fall, John was near to giving up on Sherlock's return.
The cabbie turned to glance at John to see if he could venture to ask him something without upsetting him. He seemed to judge it was clear to press on. he asked John if he could turn on the radio. John, with a slight shrug, said sure. The cabbie turned it on with one last glance through the rearview mirror at John.
The song began with a slow, beatifully paced piano trickling as it brought it into the start of the lyrics.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This verse alone precisely reflected the pain he was gone through since the Reichenbach Fall. He clenched his fists under his arms as he crossed them tighter across his jumper.
I'll be the one, if you want me to.
John's breathing became slightly ragged. For God's sake, man. We aren't even at the cemetery yet and you are already on the verge of tears. John took a deep breath and adjusted his position in his seat to compose himself.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
John nearly lost it at this. Why did this song fit so perfectly? The situation was so fitting with these lyrics alone because of two reasons. John would have followed him into any situation no matter how insane or idiotic, if Sherlock ever needed him there, he would be there through thick and thin. The second was the need for Sherlock to return if he could, he was losing hope rapidly in believing his Sherlock would return.
Luckily, for John the cabbie started to hear how distressed John was getting and turned down the music much too low for either to hear. But John was able to catch what the song title was on the radio. "Say Something" by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera.He would save that for later. Even though he was grateful that the song was off due to his reaction, without it he felt very empty. He needed to hear it again. In private though, he knew he wouldn't be able to contain his feelings listening to it again.
John typed it into his phone and set it to download. The driver pulled up to the cemetery. John was just putting it away when the cabbie had parked next to the entrance. He sighed deeply and paid the cabbie. The cabbie stopped briefly before accepting the money. "I have taken other people over here on my rides, I am sorry for your loss." He seemed truly hurt to see a stranger so upset. John thanked him and gave him a bigger tip than usual.
John entered the cemetery and walked up to the massive tree under which Sherlock's grave lied. The day was cool, but not too chilly to send shivers up his spine, but he did wish he had worn a thicker jumper.
He stopped in front of the headstone. In large letters in white that contrasted the darkness of the stone, he read "Sherlock Holmes." Simply stated. The man had little sentiment, so this perfectly represented him. The contrast of the colors chosen for the headstone reminded John also of Sherlock with his pale skin strikingly illuminated against his dark hair and coat.
John stepped uncomfortably in front of the grave. He felt this wasn't right. It never felt right being here. John believed it was because of the circumstances of his passing and the young age he had died at.
The purpose of John being here was to end all the conflict within his being about Sherlock's status of life and death. John wanted to come to terms with the fact Sherlock was gone with no chance of returning. This essentially was the last hope for John that Sherlock will return to him.
John got passed the slight awkwardness of the situation, being this was very private and personal for him and he was in a public place, but he sat down with back to the headstone and pulled out his phone. No one was around and he had no headphones, but he had an intense need to listen to that song from the cab ride at that moment. He opened up the music player on his phone and played it aloud for him to hear.
The piano began again. It approached the part where they began to sing together. John curled up tighter into the stone, the only thing grounding him to reality, a harsh reality.
And I am feeling so small.
It was over my head
I know nothing at all.
John gasped a bit and choked back a sob as he remembered and let the words touch. His huffs of pain quickly developed to racking sobs and he couldn't hear the song over them. A verse had passed before he calmed enough to hear it again.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
This verse nearly killed him. It spoke so much truth of his situation that he couldn't believe it wasn't specifically meant for what he was going through. I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you. Stuck out to him. He wished that he hadn't been tricked into thinking Mrs. Hudson was shot, running him across the city, much too far away to stop Sherlock in time. He wished that he could take back the one of last things he said to him before he decided to get on that bloody roof and that was to tell him he was a machine. There were so many regrets that day. So many things he wished he could've done to change the outcome, but no matter if he is in some sort of hiding or is actually inside a coffin under this tree, John couldn't decide, but he knew one thing, he was away from him.
The next verse flowed gently into the still air of the song was beautiful and touching. John felt emotionally changed by the song, as if it could pierce right through him and see his true thoughts and feelings. It was hard to believe such a deep emotion was taking place in such a calm environment. The next lyrics rang out loud against the quietness.
And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love
and I'm saying goodbye.
This one though, it hit the hardest. The realization of his true feelings smacked him in the face so hard he felt dazed. John had denied and denied that he was ever in a romantic relationship with Sherlock. Everyone had said so. Some days John sat there wondering if he was just in denial and that actions spoke louder than words and that his actions showed more love and romance. He had earlier come to the conclusion that he had loved Sherlock, but it was at that point too late. Sherlock had beeen gone for several months. He had continued denying it because it hurt less, it wasn't just for image. John wished he had never denied it and that as the songs says he wished that he had swallowed his pride and admit that Sherlock is the one that he loved.
To hell with it. John thought to himself. No need in worrying about the repercussions. John sat up a bit straighter and swallowed. He turned himself towards the words on the stone, gazing into his reflection before focusing on the letters. "Sher-Sherlock." He cleared his throat and started over again. "Sherlock Holmes. I-I love you. I have always loved. I am sorry you- you aren't here and I would give anything for you to be."
He put his head down to his chest letting some tears fall in the process and ran his fingers over the letters before resting his hand over the majority of Sherlock's first name and looked up into his reflection again. Only this time to see a figure behind him. John blinked dumbfoundedly at the outline of a man standing behind him, he would have recognized that physique anywhere. He swiveled around and got up. He took a shaky step forward with his hand stretched out to reach for him, but not quite there yet. There standing before him was Sherlock. Sherlock had a stony face on, but John could see through his mask that his eyes were watering. The song still played, but it was nearing the finish.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
Say something...
The words trailed off and hung in the air as the two stared at each other. The verse spoke for John as it had throughout the whole song. It sang what he wanted say, but couldn't get out. The silence giving John an air of finality. If something didn't change soon John would think he had gone mad, imagining things. He was going to give up on this preposterous man ever being his again.
John was on the verge of giving up hope when Sherlock finally spoke. "I love you too, my Watson." John grabbed for him, stumbling into the tall man. He gave loud, shuddering sobs in the shoulder of Sherlock's jacket for what seemed like an eternity. When he calmed down enough he looked up at Sherlock, whose eyes were red and had tears streaming from his face. His curls clung to the wetness framing his cheekbones. He kept on muttering apologies.
John never wanted to see this man like this. He was sure Sherlock never wanted him to see him like this either and yet here they were. John couldn't bear it any longer. He had to stop this madness. He grabbed Sherlock by the upturned collars of his signature jacket and pulled him in for a kiss.
Sherlock didn't hestiate for a second and gripped John by the neck and shoulder in a desperate fashion. They slowed the kiss down to leisurely pace before coming to a complete stop. With their foreheads touching and arms wrapped around each other in an embrace, they looked at each other soaking up the lost time being apart.