Breathe;
The raven ruffled his feathers against the rain as he watched the man below him. There had only been a few people standing at the grave side and they had all drifted a short distance away once the service was over, allowing the single man they left by the graveside some modicum of privacy. This man stood, wrapped up in his own thoughts as he stared at the grave of Sherlock Holmes.
John was like a statue, unmoving, even the rain dripping down his neck was ignored so lost was he in his thoughts. The only movement was the deep steadying breaths he took to keep the emotions that battered at him at bay. He stared into the hole in the ground, blinking through eyes blurred with tears at the box that held the motionless body of Sherlock. It was surreal to think of his lifeless body lying down there in that box, after spending time with the man who was always moving, more alive than anything John had known to date, only still when he was deep in contemplation… and now. Sherlock Holmes was still now and that fact was breaking John a little more each day.
John knew he should leave, the service was over and there was no reason to stay and yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to walk away because it felt like a betrayal to leave Sherlock under the rain, all alone. John couldn't move so he stood there trying not to see the same image, but failing still, he just kept seeing the moment strange hands had turned Sherlock over and how the burst of scarlet in his vision filled him with dread. It was all he ever saw, on constant repeat. John had tried to remember something else, anything but that, anything but the moment of knowing Sherlock was gone but it filled his thoughts night and day.
John could see the others looking over at him, whispering to each other and knew if he didn't move soon then they would make him go visit the psychiatrists tomorrow to get his bumps felt again. He hated it there, she kept trying to get him to talk about how he felt about Sherlock's last words, to say that he was a fraud, but he never would say that, never could. Wasn't it enough that he had to say he was dead, even when a part of him still hoped, the only part that kept him sane. Sherlock Holmes is dead, just saying that out loud had felt like a betrayal and a little slice of death to his heart each time.
He walked over to the head stone and placed his hand on the cold stone, feeling the rain on his skin and he was glad. It felt right that the weather was dark and miserable when they buried Sherlock, that it should reflect John himself.
The fresh rain mingled with the salty tears that sprang from his eyes as he whispered to the grave, his voice coarse with emotion, "You were my hero and you made every breath worth taking… and now I'm… I'm so alone and I'm suffocating without you." He huffed out breaths between words, pausing to bite down on the hurricane of pain that threatened to overwhelm him as he tried to get through the words that needed to be said, words he should have said to Sherlock while he had the chance, a regret he would carry with him always so now he said them to the silent grave, the only option left.
John started to turn away, but then he turned back and returned his hand to the gravestone. He took a deep breath for one final plea as the tears fell unchecked down his cheeks as he forced broken hiccupping words past the pain in his chest, "Please… please, for me, just… please don't be… dead. When you died you took my heart with you… and I… I don't know how to breathe without you, so please, Sherlock,"
John took a final deep breath, these last words the most important of his life, "…for me, just don't be dead, okay." He hung his head as he wiped away his tears, coughing away the lump of emotion lodged in his throat, taking deep breaths to push away the pressure of the overwhelming maelstrom in his chest before he turned to join the others. Each step he took away from Sherlock like a knife to his heart. His friends, Sherlock's select friends, greeted him without a word, arms came up to help steer him silently through the headstones of other loved ones left behind.
None of them saw the onlooker as he turned away with tears in his eyes still yet to fall and a promise on his lips, "Soon John, soon, I promise. Then we can both breathe again."
Well thats it. Hope you liked it. I'm actually supposed to be right in the middle of writing an AU series 1 story which won't be complete for another couple of months yet but I was issuing five prompts to friends and I got caught up in them this week and this happened. Oh well, hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review if you have time, I do love them so. - Paleo x