Drift
He walked the streets of London; cold winter winds assailed him with their icy fingers. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself, tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders so they came up and helped to cover his ears.
It started to snow. Huge flakes drifted down and swirled around, starting a dance as old as existence.
He paused, in his misery, to look up into the sky. Where he was standing there was not enough light from the street to interfere with the vision of velvety blackness that was a backdrop for the billions of crystal fragments as they fell from the sky. It was mesmerizing and hypnotic to watch. It was beyond beautiful. An infinite amount of snow cascading from a never-ending blackness.
He stood and closed his eyes against the vision. The snow kissed his lids, his cheeks, his lips and gathered in his hair.
The beauty of the night lifted the sadness he felt in his heart. The wonder of the night gave him hope for the first time in seven months.
He smiled a sad, soft smile.
"Happy Christmas, Sherlock," he whispered into the vastness of time and space. "I still miss you."
He walked the streets of a town somewhere in Afghanistan; the cold desert winds assailed him with their icy fingers. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself, tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders so they came up and helped to cover his ears.
The night was an inky blackness and the stars didn't so much as come out one at a time as sing their existence into the night.
He paused, in his misery, to look up onto the sky. Where he was standing there was not enough light from the street to interfere with the vision of velvety blackness that was a backdrop for the brilliant blanket of stars that covered the sky. Half remembered words came to him. Beautiful, isn't it? It was beyond beautiful. It was mesmerizing and hypnotic. An infinite amount of stars in a never-ending blackness.
He stood and swayed against the dizziness induced by the stars. He felt as of he drifted in a primordial sea.
The beauty of the night lifted the sadness he felt in his heart. The wonder of the night gave him hope for the first time in seven months.
He smiled a sad, hard smile.
"Happy Christmas, John," he whispered into the vastness of time and space. "I will be home soon."