Pansies

Holmes was dead, I just had to get used to it. I sat in front of the great detective's grave and put my hand on the grave stone, the flower I put down yesterday was gone.

I knew no body had been found, and honestly, who would expect any different, he had been pushed off the edge of some very high cliffs into a water fall after all. But with no body found I couldn't help but hope that he was still alive, it was very stupid of me, being a doctor and all. And I hadn't even told him how I felt, before he... I couldn't believe that Holmes of all people actually died. He seemed so immortal, though he had looked worn when he came in through my window that day.

I looked at the Pansies in my hand and put them on his grave stone, maybe somehow he'd see them, and remember me, and maybe he'd feel the same way. I sighed, who was I kidding; Holmes couldn't have survived the drop. If he was alive or dead, why would he love, he couldn't I was sure of it, we all were. Him finding someone had even become a sort of joke amongst those of the Yard he worked with, so I had heard. And even if he could why would he love me of all people, though I was his best friend, it was illegal, though, I smiled as I remembered, he had never let the law stop him.

I heard rustling in the bushes behind me, probably just some wild animal watching my lamentation. I brushed my hand over the grave and said a silent prayer; maybe someone up there would hear me.

~POV switch~

I watched Watson silently crouch near my grave, my somber grey eyes almost gave to tears, yet I held back, it took all my might, yet I held. I then walked up to my own grave. It was an odd sensation; it always was when I came there. I hadn't died, I hadn't even fallen. Instead I had pushed Moriaty down instead of me and fled as a move of strategy so the other members of his gang wouldn't hunt me down. I touched the head stone, where Watson had touched many timed before.

I came daily after seeing Watson put flowers there, I took each flower and kept them all as a record of how long it had been since I left. I would through them away once I returned. If Watson ever wanted to talk to me again after the letter I gave him. Though he seems to miss me so much, maybe I was lucky and he didn't read it, but then I'll have to reveal it in person some time.

I felt so sorry for him; I knew what it was like to miss a friend, and to have a friend die. I had only told my brother that I was still alive, but I in some respects regretted not telling Watson, I would have had I not written him the letter. I picked up the Pansies that Watson left, and carried them away.