A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
Ella wants me to write poetry to pass the time. To keep them numbered in this book. I don't think this is what she meant about it getting better. It may have gotten worse. 'A poem a day keeps the depression away'. A load of rubbish.
#1
Life is boring these days,
It hurts so much that and I want to cry,
All I can think of is that day,
And how I didn't get to say 'goodbye'. -JW.
#79
The sky is blue,
His eyes were too,
I hate sunny days,
'Cause my sun has gone away. -JW.
#127
His scent still lingers here,
Along with all his things,
I fear the day it'll disappear,
The thought makes my eyes sting. -JW.
#189
'Life is a gift', or so I'm told,
A wondrous treasure for us to behold,
But can it be wondrous, when the person you miss,
Has left you alone with no reason to exist,
Leaving you feeling so empty and cold? -JW.
#244
He isn't here,
He left that day,
His things are here,
They're here to stay,
I cannot leave,
This is our home,
I always grieve,
'Cause I'm alone. -JW.
#298
They say that depression is subjective,
That anything can trigger an emotional invective,
But my heart beats so soundly and sure,
As daily I sit, watching the door,
Awaiting the return of my consulting detective. -JW.
#341
What would he say,
If he saw me this way?
Probably criticize,
Or just roll those blue eyes. -JW.
#399
I miss the laughing,
I miss the arguing,
I miss our fights.
Why did he jump? -JW.
#443
The words are empty,
The page is blank,
The cover is trashed,
My heart already sank.
Our story is over,
Because he is gone,
I haven't felt happiness,
In so damn long. -JW.
#489
A miracle is a rarity,
That some may never see,
For they choose whom to bless,
With love and happiness.
I knew a walking miracle,
A true beauty to behold,
With intelligence, wit and character,
And a heart made of pure gold.
My miracle has faded,
Quite slowly over time,
Now my heart is worn and jaded,
For his light no longer shines.
How I miss my miracle,
And his mind unlike the rest,
And how he always made me smile,
Even when I was a mess.
Yes, that once in a lifetime blessing,
That meant everything to me,
Was a rarity of a miracle,
That only I could see. -JW.
#533
I've never hit a woman,
I've never made one cry,
But if she degrades his memory one more time,
She's getting a black eye. -JW.
#587
Sometimes I can't move,
So I lay in bed and think,
But when I think, my mind goes to a dark place,
That leaves me teetering on the brink. -JW.
#632
In darkness I can pretend,
That beside me is my friend,
But when the light comes I can see,
That sitting here, is only me. -JW.
#695
He said that he wasn't a hero,
But only I could see,
That underneath that hard exterior,
Was a soul just like me.
Kind and courageous,
And helpful day to day,
And that's why he was my hero,
'Cause he helped me find my way. -JW.
#728
Drop by drop,
Tear by tear,
Loneliness going on,
Nearly two years. -JW.
#730
Sherlock, I wish you were here.
You were the best, bravest, kindest and most amazing person ever.
It's been two years, you know?
Two years that you've been away.
Nothing has really changed.
I still live in 221B.
I don't have the strength to leave.
I just wish you could know how much I miss you,
And how beyond anything, I wished I had jumped too. -JW.
#745
I'm going mad,
I'm losing my mind,
I saw him today,
Looking just fine.
Standing across the road,
Arms inside his coat,
But when cab pulled away,
He was gone. -JW.
#750
These hallucinations persist,
My mind is going numb,
I'm looking around corners,
Because the afterimage of him might come. -JW.
#751
A matter of the heart has occurred to me,
I've just realized and I wonder why I haven't before,
That this sort of depression doesn't happen for 'just a friend',
But for someone who meant a little bit more. -JW.
John sighed as he entered the flat and closed the door. Another boring day at the clinic. Another bump on the road of his dull life.
He removed his coat and tossed it toward the sofa, not bothering to look.
It was the muffled, 'ooof!' that made him glance over in confusion.
A person was sitting on the sofa. The coat fell away and John inhaled so deeply, the coise resembled that of an inhaler when in use.
And then everything got dark and he swayed.
"John!"
He was roused by the scent of hard boiled eggs. John sat up quickly, remembering why he was even waking at all. He then jumped off the sofa and ducked into the kitchen, seeing a tall, dark haired figure standing at the stove.
Sherlock turned to look at him and dropped the mitts he was holding, before approaching the doctor and wrapping his arms around the shaking man.
"John, I'm so sorry. I didn't think my death would mean so much to you."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"They were going to kill you. I couldn't let it happen. Moriarty had snipers trained on you. If I didn't jump, they'd kill you and once he shot himself, there was no one who could make them stop, unless they saw you watching me die."
"This isn't an experiment?"
"No."
"This isn't a joke?"
"I don't joke."
"You're really here?"
"Mhm…"
John's arms slowly wrapped around his long lost 'friend' while mumbling into his chest, "I missed you."
"I know. I saw the notebook and I'm sorry."
John wasn't even miffed that his deepest feelings has been shown to the very person they were about. He was just happy to have his wish come true. Though he was still hurt.
"You're poetry is beautiful," Sherlock's deep voice sounded. "It improved vastly and it really touched me."
John huffed a small laugh.
Sherlock was there.
He was home.
"And John?"
The doctor pulled back a bit and looked into those blue eyes that he had written about so many times.
"I love you too."
A/N: Done! I wrote all the poems. They are all by H.M.L.
Check out my other Sherlock fics.
See ya! :D