Sherlock watched silently as John visited his grave again. He did this every Friday, no matter what. He came whether it was raining, snowing, or anything else. He would always sit there next to it and talk like it was him, like he was still here and he always was. Every Friday, no matter what, Sherlock was there as well. He didn't care if he had something to do, he wasn't missing it. God how he missed John, he missed him a lot more than he would say. He longed to be with him. He longed to go to him and tell him, but he couldn't. He had to keep him safe. He had to take down Moriarty's web first. He couldn't lose him. He closed his eyes as he listened to him talk. He listened to him tell him about his life now, how he found a girl a named Mary, and they were soon to be married. That made him heart ache. He had never got the chance to tell John he loved him and now he may never. He felt silent tears roll down his face. It had been so long since he cried, since he showed real emotions, but he couldn't help it now. He couldn't help the tears rolling out his eyes. He felt like he was dying. He felt like he had lost his best friend, even if he was right there.
He took a deep breath as he looked around the tree he always sat at and looked. John looked so sad, so desperate. He carried his cane again. He looked tired, wore out. He looked ready to break any moment of any seconds, and his voice was. His voice was shaking as he talked. It broke every now and then. The sight pained Sherlock more than anything. He had done this to John. He had faked his death and he had hurt everyone. He had to remind himself it was him or John every day. He had to tell himself it was all for the better and that he had to do it. He had to keep him alive, because even if he didn't jump he would have been dead when John died. He would have killed himself then, he couldn't live without John. He didn't remember how to.
He was shaking himself now. He didn't even realize it. He didn't even notice he was crying harder, all of him was focused on John. He wanted to run to him in that moment, in the moment of John crying. He did it every time and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop John from crying. He couldn't stop him from being weak. How could he when he was weak himself? He couldn't move from his spot as he watched him closely. How he missed John going on cases with him. He missed everyone else, but John, John he missed so much more. He missed him like the sun would miss the sky. He missed him like the oceans would miss the moon. He missed him like he was Sherlock without his John, and he was. He was just a body with a soul, not Sherlock much anymore.
He had changed a lot lately. He barely ate, he didn't sleep, and he didn't do anything he used to. Yes it was normal for him to not eat or sleep but he did it so much more than before. He was skinny. He was so skinny you could see his ribs. He looked tired, wore out, more so than John did. He had bags under his eyes, and was covered in bruises. He had also gone back to drugs. He wanted it all to go away, he wanted all the feelings to go away, but they didn't.
He heard footsteps then and looked over. John was leaving. He always did leave, he knew he would, but he wasn't ready. He didn't want him to go, being it would be a week before he was back. He couldn't wait that long to see him again. He didn't want to wait that long to see him again.
He sighed lightly as he watched him walked off, straightening himself up. "Goodbye, John." Sherlock finally whispered his voice breaking. And with that he watched John get into a car and leave, not knowing he would come face to face with him within the week. And it was not how he pictured uniting with him.
Should I make another chapter?
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