John stood over the top of the head stone that read the name of his best friend. His watery eyes fixed on his reflection as he sniffled to himself, trying to listen the sound of nature around him. The trees that once rustled now stood still, the birds that sang are now silent, and the wind was calm but this only mad John feel more aggravated.
Tears fell gently down his cheeks as he screwed his eyes closed and balled his fist, he longed for Sherlock's gently touch to brush the tears away and hold him close. Although, he'd realise there would be no point to him standing there crying. John placed his hand on the headstone again before shaking his head and turning to go. His feat seemed to carry him away quicker than Sherlock could speak, his hands raising to his wettened face.
Behind the headstone sat a quiet Sherlock, his hands clasped together and his elbows placed on his knees. The man's eyes were filled with tears that were screaming to fall as John walked away out of the cemetery. He sighed, before running his hands over his face into this curly, messy hair. He hated the fact he left the person he loved most behind and hated the fact he had to do this to himself.
When he certain that John was through the gates on the other side, Sherlock stood brushing the dust and dirt from himself. He looked down to his feet before sliding the long coat from his body and looking at it with sad eyes, he took a moment to admire the memories that came with it before placing it over the headstone. A small smile pulled up on the corner of his lips before he too turned to walk away. He walked the opposite way to John, disappearing into a small opening in some bushes that lead onto another quiet street. The tall man wandered until he could wander no more, and eventually fell asleep on a bench.
John returned the next day along with Mrs. Hudson. The landlady went first into the graveyard, heading toward Sherlock's headstone with flowers in her shaking hands. She stopped at the headstone, clutching the flowers tighter as she stood there.
'John,' she called as he made his way toward her. He never said anything, he didn't even make a noise as he saw what was placed on the headstone. John lifted his hand and reached out to pick the coat up, he pulled it over the top of the headstone into his arms then looking over at Mrs Hudson who just looked in confusion.
John's eyes fell back down to the coat at Mrs. Hudson bent down to place flowers on the ground. The grieving man buried his head into the coat and took a big deep breath in, he was greeted by a familiar smell and John could feel the tears coming. But none came as he had already cried so much that he now just felt nothing.