John Watson was sitting in his chair. The flat felt empty again, it needed two occupants, not just one.
He started to think over the events of the past week.
Then he remembered their last conversation...
"John... Before I came here... There was... something, something I can't really explain... I just..."
"What do you mean Ellie?"
"Don't lose hope, Doctor John Watson. An amazing, wonderful, stupid, impossible, miracle is coming your way. You can't lose hope until then."
What did she mean "a miracle"? What sort of miracle could apply to him?
He stood in front of the tombstone. He always came here when he wanted to think. There was something comforting about being with the man who made him feel smart and stupid at the same time.
He sat down and leaned against the side of the tombstone. He didn't sit by the front; he wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea on sitting on his best friend's corpse.
So John Watson leaned against the side of the stone and began to speak. He talked all about the past few days to the grave.
Then he got up to their final conversation.
"John... Before I came here... There was... something, something I can't really explain... I just..."
"What do you mean Ellie?"
"Don't lose hope, Doctor John Watson. An amazing, wonderful, stupid, impossible, miracle is coming your way. You can't lose hope until then."
"What did she mean, Sherlock?"
There was no response. But of course there was no response, there was no-one to talk to him. So he talked some more.
He talked about the case. Something didn't seem right to him about the case. The way Lestrade acted afterwards... Something was wrong, but he couldn't connect the dots.
"You were a right prick sometimes, but by god I wish you were here. You'd solve this almost immediately."
He could feel his eyes watering. No, don't cry, you need to be strong John. Be strong. Keep calm and carry on, and all that stuff.
"Hey, are you alright?" it was a girl's voice. John snapped his head up immediately. There was a girl standing in front of him, about late twenties, she was wearing dark clothes; the kind of clothes a girl would wear when she was in mourning.
"I... I'm fine. Thanks," John plastered a smile onto his face. The girl was quite pretty, not a full-on beauty pageant winner, but humble-like; the kind of nice-looking girl who you would want to come home to after a hard day's work.
She looked over at the tombstone.
"Was he a friend of yours?"
"Yeah... he was my best friend. I miss him..."
"I know that feeling. I came here to visit my late husband... I still talk to him sometimes... He can't hear me but..."
"Yeah, sometimes it's good to just talk to someone..."
The two were quiet for a short while.
"My name is Mary, Mary Jackson."
"I'm John, John Watson."
"Hello, John Watson."
"Hello, Mary Jackson."
Two weeks after the two met, they were on their fourth date. The two worked really well together.
For the first time since Sherlock left, John Watson was happy.