A/N: And new Sherlock photos just hit me with a ton of angst.
Ghosts
A man sits down, all alone
Face set in a mask of stone
Thinking on how wide the gap had grown
Between himself and the world.
.
He stares off into empty space
Remembering the thrill of the chase
But it's been so long since he's had a case
And actually truly been happy.
.
And there's a ghost watching oh so near
Filled with hope and love and fear
Who prays that when he reappears
He can wipe away the pain.
.
But the man refuses to lift his eyes
Lets himself wallow in self-demise
Yet he cannot acknowledge his surprise
Because he's not quite sure what he's seeing.
.
As he looks up at a ghost that cannot be
And follows ever faithfully
Across a body that he should not see
So vivid through the glass.
.
And the ghost himself held his mind at bay
Thoughts flooding through in shades of gray
How wrong he was to think he could stay
So near to what he'd broken.
.
And there he leaves without a word
Fast and fleeting in a blur
Far away from whom he'd spurned
No need to cause more pain.
.
And the man sitting down did turn his head
Heart barely hanging by a thread
He needs to stop conjuring up the dead
It causes him far too much pain.