A/n: I know I promised another chapter to Help but I'm on writers block for that one, enjoy this little angsty Johnlock snippet I managed to write instead. Captain Riddickulus xx
I looked down at his grave, my love was now sleeping peacefully under six feet of dirt...forever. Mrs. Hudson let me make all the arrangements the flowers, the service, the coffin, and the headstone. It shone like a beacon in the mild mid-March sun. A sleek, black, obsidian slab just simply bearing his name. Sherlock Holmes. Nothing else, simple yet different, just like him. I dropped to my knees, pathetically weeping, clutching his headstone. The closest thing I had to holding him now. To think the brilliant Dr. John Hamish Watson would amount to this, he's seen hundreds of others die before, why was Sherlock so different?
"Why did you have to leave me? We could have cleared your name easily. Dear God have mercy on a poor soldiers soul, don't let this prayer fall on deaf ears. In all your power please give me back Sherlock. I need him. Even if just for a day, so I can tell him all I needed was him." I shouted in a vast emptiness. I felt a sudden pressure on my shoulder, who could be here? I could have sworn when I came in this graveyard was deserted.
"You know I never really left you John. Twas merely a simple trick."
My sobbing stopped, it couldn't be him could it? For reassurance I placed my minuscule hand over his large one. This was my Sherlock! I could tell, his hand was large, smooth- yet with a certain roughness to it, cold, and most distinguishing covered in tiny little scars and burn marks from his out-of-hand experiments. I turned around, still slumped over the headstone.
"How? Who? When? But I saw you jump! How are you even here? That's it, I've gone mad. You-you can't be here, it's illogical." I screamed at him, wanting an answer.
"Like I said on the rooftop John, it was only a magic trick. Honestly, you see but you do not observe. All the answers will come out soon, let's just keep this moment between us. I doubt we'll get many more in the next couple weeks."
"You're bloody luckily I love you Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes, John I'm aware of that. Now if you will please get up and clean yourself off we have matters to attend to." Sherlock said in his rich, baritone voice, with a bored tone laced in sentiment. He extended and hand and held me in an embrace once I was standing. After I could stand on my own Sherlock pulled back and rubbed a thumb over my wet cheeks. "I'll never leave you again. I promise." He planted a loving kiss on my forehead.
"I hope not. You look in worse shape than I do. Let's get you home and cleaned up. Mrs. Hudson can make us both a nice cuppa, yeah?"
With that we set off for 221B, the next few weeks of Sherlock 'returning from the dead' were going to be hectic. But unlike most normal people Sherlock would detest all the praise and questions, making for less commotion in the flat. For once I am glad to say- thank God he's different.