a/n: title and summary from 'the scientist' by coldplay. warnings: character death
Go on, Sherlock. You can do it.
(Thank you, Gregory.)
A step. Then another. Suddenly you're on a podium in front of dozens of tear stained faces. You clear your throat; begin:
'The only speech harder to write than that as a best man is one as a best man and the best friend of the person we're saying goodbye to here today.
Well, John. I'd say I'm not good with words but we'd both know that'd be a lie and quite frankly I've never been modest. The truth of the matter is that despite my intelligence and vast vocabulary, I am simply rather quite lost for words on this day. To try to articulate you as a person- your life and existence and resilient nature- is not possible. I have no words. Trying to condense the enormity of what I feel at this- this... this utterly unacceptable and entirely undue turn of events is not a task of which I am capable of undertaking.
I always imagined that death would take my hand and lead me into the unknown long before it did you, but I suppose that the fanciful idea that I would never have to live another day without you was never meant to be.
I cannot express the infinite and vast loss I feel at the death of John Watson, and I suppose that that in itself speaks volumes.
All I can summon from the recesses of my brain- no, my heart- is this: you were deeply loved, and you will be most sorely and regretfully missed. Truly and emphatically and... goodbye, John. Goodbye.'
Step down. Walk away. Don't let them see you crying and feverently whispering to the sky asking for just one more miracle.