John paced the flat. This was not the first strange letter he had received. He had received a birthday card from an anonymous well hadn't paid much attention. The card had contained a CD with a single song on it. The card had all of the lyrics written on it, and John hatted the song, but loved it at the same time. He often cried while listening to it. It reminded him to stay strong. The Rascal Flats were not a very well known band, but John did like this one song, Stand.
John sat down in his chair, head in his hands. He felt very nervous. What if Sherlock really was alive? Where was he? What had he been doing? Was he ok? John thought he would go see Lestrade tomorrow. Now though, he was going to go see Sherlock. If it was him. He pulled on his coat and blue scarf. It had been Snerlocks once, but he had kept it. He smiled slightly. He knew what Sherlock would say. "Bloody sentiment."
John hailed a cab, and went to the cemetery. He walked to Sherlocks grave. Hard packed snow crunched under his feet. He stood looking at the grave for a minute, lost in though. Then he sat down, and leaned his head against the stone. Then he started talking.
"I know you can hear me Sherlock. Or you Mycroft. I know Sherlock isn't dead. So either Sherlock can listen know, or Mycroft can pass on the message. Either way, you know what Iv been through, and it hasn't been easy. I know that you had your reasons Sherlock, but they had better be fucking good. Because if they arnt, I will retake the liberty of killing you myself the very next time I see you. It's almost Christmas Sherlock. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I remember our last Christmas. Do you? I hope you haven't deleted it. We had fun The next day when nobody was around, running around, throwing snowballs. You looked so happy then, so carefree."
Johns voice cracked at this point, and a tear escaped and slid down his cheek as he remembered that Christmas day. He sighed. He missed Sherlock so much.
"I would stay longer here Sherlock, but my arse is getting quite cold from sitting on the ground for so long." He smiled and stood up, getting ready to walk away, then turned back to the grave quickly.
"You know that I haven't been with anybody in three years, and you know why. I'm also sorry I didn't tell you when you were here with me, I suppose I was to shy to say anything. I thought you would leave me. Sherlock bloody Holmes, I love you."
John gave a decisive nod, then walked away.
Mycroft stared at his computer screen, blinking. How could he have missed something so obvious? He had teased Sherlock and John about being a couple, but he had never actually thought that one might like the other. He sighed. He didn't know what had made John think that Sherlock was alive again. His brothers death had effected him as well. He just had a different way of showing it. He sighed. John hadn't really recovered. The flat was left in the same state as it was when Sherlock left. John had done nothing to fix up the flat, and was very put out when Mrs. Hudson had fixed the wall where Sherlock had shot it. He honestly would have loved to pass the not on to his brother. The only problem was, Sherlock was dead, facts were facts.
John walked up the stairs to his door. He shoved random things out of the way as he walked to the couch. Leaving the flat the way it was when Sherlock was there, helped John. It made him feel as if he were still there. Sometimes he woke up very early in the morning, imagining he had heard music from Sherlocks violin. He would rush down, but nobody would be there.
John had a light super, then went to bed. He decided that he might try to get a small social life, and attend Lestrades Christmas party the next day.
So! Hello! I have some lovely ideas for my readers! lots of exciting...Stuff... I thought I'd leave y'all at a cliff hanger cause I'm mean. But the next chapter will be postEd in about a day because I am very eager to write it. Pleas review! I love to hear my readers feedback! Ideas/compliments/complaints are all appreciated! Thank you!