"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
John heard them over and over again, the first words that Sherlock had ever said to him.
John shut his eyes and relived that moment in his head, making it come alive. He could see the science lab, full of newfangled laboratory equipment. He could smell that artificial scent that cleaning products gave off. He looked at Sherlock, and thought nothing of him; until he spoke.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
John remembered how thrown and bewildered he was by the question. Even more so when Sherlock continued his deductions. He missed the unpredictability and excitement that came with living in 221b. He hadn't gone back since. It was too painful, though the only thing that ever made him smile, after it happened, were memories of that place. The times they had had in it.
John drew in a long breath and opened his eyes, bringing himself to the present. The sun shone brightly and the grave yard was quiet. Getting up from the bench, John walked over towards Sherlock's tombstone. He tapped his two front fingers on it, fondly, like he always did when he talked to Sherlock.
"Afghanistan was a hell of a lot easier than this."