The light breeze touches her skin and cools her cheeks.
Oh, how I love this smell; salty, damp and reassuring.
It makes her think about her childhood, about the summer she spent with her grandmother, God bless her, in her weekend house near the sea. As she is walking, she can remember how afraid she was when she first heard the screech of a seagull that flew over her head. She squealed and hung on tightly to her older cousin's arm. He just leaned closer to her and laughed, saying "It's just a seagull, silly. Not going to harm you. It's more afraid of you than you are of it."
She smiles a little, thinking about him. She misses him now; wishes she could see him again, but he's gone now. He's gone for good.
A seagull hovers over the bush next to her but she's not afraid now. It was a long time ago, after all, and she was just a little girl back then. She watches as it circles a few times before it lands on a rock and starts arranging its feathers on its wing.
She looks straight ahead of herself where the sun is starting to go down to meet and sink into the water. The small rumbling of the waves soothe her tired mind, and she watches the sand fascinatedly, as it turns into a darker shade of brown when the wave withdraws and leaves dampness behind itself.
She stands up, and puts a small stone on the edge of the blanket she was sitting on, because the wind is rather strong and she feels too old to chase after a blanket that is floating in the air coming from the water.
She steps out of her slippers and bends to roll her jeans up. She doesn't want to get ill, after all, and having a damp pair of jeans would be the easiest way to get a cold.
The first touch of the balmy sand under her feet is marvellous, it calms her. She digs her toes deeper into the sand and takes a deep breath.
Yes. How long have I craved this? This silence, being able to hear my own thoughts, no one running up and down the stairs, no shouting. Just the peaceful humming of the waves.
She takes a few steps forward until the cold water reaches her feet. It's icy first, but as she becomes accustomed to it, it feels almost intimate. She can let go of all the tension in her body. There's no need to worry anymore.
It was easy to see it, even at first glance. There was a certain spark, that is for sure. And we were all waiting for it, and we knew it would happen, sooner or later. I just wish it would have happened sooner. It would have spared them – and us, too – so much sleepless nights and anxiousness. But no, they were so blind. Both of them focusing on their own problems and not paying attention to each other. Both of them were in agonizing pain and were driving themselves crazy thinking their feelings were unrequited when the truth was that they wanted each other. They just were too much in their heads to talk, weren't they?
She starts walking along the shore, just close enough to let the waves lick at her feet. She locks her hands behind her back and is lost in her thoughts.
But then that awful thing happened and they realised what they meant to each other. And that they just couldn't live without the other. Oh, I remember the look on DI Lestrade's face when he came over and saw them sitting next to each other on the couch, John's leg over Sherlock's knee, and they looked so… domestic. Ah, I felt triumphant then. And Molly was such a sweetheart when she caught a glimpse of John's dog tags hanging on a silver necklace around Sherlock's neck. Well, I knew about it then already, but still, it was such a sweet gesture, proposing with something so personal. I never thought they were the ring type, but Sherlock wearing those tags really shows how much he feels for John. And Sherlock's happiness when John agreed on going out shopping to get the custom made suits for the big day. How handsome they looked! I never thought John could be this dashing in a suit, but Sherlock was definitely right about putting new clothes in John's wardrobe.
She looks down and sees a shell in the sand. She crouches to lift it up, and washes the sand away when a wave crawls towards her.
And that posh brother of Sherlock's, Mycroft, bought tickets for them and they haven't even argued! Just got on the plane and flew off to Scotland, where they can chase mysteries for two weeks now. Odd birds they are, so spending their honeymoon on a misty moor could be ideal for them.
They'll be gone for two weeks. Two weeks without gunshots, yelling, running or sirens squealing in the middle of the night. I'll be able to enjoy my herb teas in complete silence, finally! And probably tidy their awful flat without them interrupting me. Ah, those disgusting body parts in the fridge! And I haven't even told Mrs Turner. How envious she will be. Well, she could stop bragging about her married ones. She's not the only one to have a couple in her house, after all.