He stands, hesitation evident in the slight quiver of his left hand, in the door frame, his back angled to the window and his eyes shaded by his curly, black hair. I stand, not facing him, but watching him desperately through a sidelong glance. I remain silent and his hesitation fades, he sighs and shuffles his feet in the doorway, now with just a few fingers brushed against the door knob to keep him here. To keep him safe and by my side. "Sherlock-" I begin, and he turns immediately, relief showing through his impenetrable mask, for just one moment before it is swallowed by his eerily neutral features. "I..." My mind is racing. I do not know what to say, how to tell him. "Good luck mate." He nods, almost disappointedly as if he knows what I wanted to say and wishes I had. Then he's gone, the doorknob cold and empty without the touch of his fingertips, the doorframe plain and silent without his ever commanding stature. I do not move, thinking only that I should have told him. That I love him, and that I have always loved him, that all the oceans and all the mountains and every man that ever was cannot keep me from
loving him, that I shall wait for him until I fade from this world. Most of all I wish I had told him that he mattered to me, and that I cared. But he is gone, his presence irreversibly removed, his irresistible pull fading. I stand there, unmoving, barely breathing, memorising that last moment of peace, before he vanished. I feel nothing, only a deep, bitter sadness, as if all the warmth my love had given me was torn out and handed to the man I loved as he walked out the door and out of my life. I don't know how long I stand there, only that it was still light when he left and now it is dark. I turn, my muscles protesting at the movement, and look out the window. The stars shine bright and cold, near yet so far. "Per aspera ad astra," I whisper to myself. Perhaps one day he will return to me. But now, he is gone, and all that lies ahead is the stars, light and everlasting.