"Don't be…dead."
The last word was caught momentarily in John Watson's throat. He sucked in his breath, fighting back tears.
"Just for me, just stop it. Stop this."
He exhaled and gave one last look at the grave mark. He saw his own reflection in the shiny black marble stone, his face contorted with emotion and pain. A tear rolled down his cheek as the clouds above him began to cluster and darken. John stumbled away from the grave. He needed to break free.
Outside the cemetery, his cab waited, waited to take him far away from rainy London.
John slammed the cab door shut just as the first raindrops began to fall.
"HeathrowAirport please" he stuttered. He glanced at the tombstone in the distance once more as the vehicle began to roll away. The name engraved on it seemed to glow against the dark sky, like a beacon guiding a ship during a storm in the black of the night.
The name:
Sherlock Holmes.