A/N: Slightly edited now, made it a bit longer
London
John Watson stood alone in the cemetery.
The time was nearing midnight and a faint mist was collecting around his feet. Blades of emerald green grass stood erect, the frost holding them in position. The sky was a very deep blue and the moon was nowhere to be seen. John let a sigh escape his lips. A small cloud formed in front of him. He pulled his dark coat around himself tighter. Sherlock's old blue scarf sat around him neck.
It had been a month now.
A month alone.
A month of no adventure
A month with no flatmate.
A month with no Sherlock.
John liked coming to see Sherlock at night, no one else was ever here then. During the day people would come with him, trying to support him, but they couldn't help. He was starting to see why Sherlock liked silence, why he had liked being alone sometimes.
The stars sparkled in the sky over head, unaffected by the drama and the pain of John's life. No one truly understood John's pain, but he didn't mind. No one had been closer to Sherlock than him, not even Mycroft.
John lifted his gaze to the sky, remembering Sherlock's ignorance towards the solar system and its inner workings.
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it" he'd told John.
The ghost of a smile crossed his lips.
One star sat directly above Sherlock's grave. It was easily the brightest star in the sky, superior to all the others. Like Sherlock had been. The star twinkled down on John its light reflecting off the top of the marble slab.
"Hello Sherlock" he whispered looking at the star
John decided that that amazing star was Sherlock Holmes. From now on whenever he thought of his late friend he would look to the sky and think of the new star not the lifeless body buried beneath the marble stone.
His smile grew, just a fraction. Sherlock was watching over him even now, even in death.
"I'll join you one day" he told Sherlock "I'll stand by you again. We'll look down on the world and light up the sky"
Cardiff
Smooth concrete lay out open towards the black oily water of the bay. A pontoon floated on the water rising and falling with the gentle waves, making a gentle splash every time it hit down, on the very edge stood a man, a dark Belstaff coat flapped around his legs, he also had a navy scarf tight around his neck. His gaze was not on the water though. It was on the stars twinkling above him. The moon remained invisible somehow increasing the beauty of the stars, making their intricate patterns more visible.
The man liked to say he knew everything. Well not trivial gossip that offered no assistance to his cases. But the night sky was somewhere his knowledge lacked. That didn't particularly affect his work…not often anyway.
But it was beautiful, awe inspiring, in the same way as his violin music. He'd noticed that John had developed the habit of visiting the grave at night. So right now, chances were, Doctor John Watson was also staring at the sky, marvelling at its beauty. A half smile touched the man's lips. So many miles between himself and his friend yet there was something connecting them.
In the distance he could make out an abnormally bright star, it hovered over London protecting the people that lived there. One day the man would go home and take over for the star, he would protect John Watson, DI Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and maybe even Mycroft. There was still hope for him, always a light at the end of the tunnel.
Sherlock Holmes would go home.
One day.
Partially inspired by Take That: Rule the World