I Love You, and I Always Will
Today was January 17. Lestrade sat all alone in a deserted bar. He left to go there after a long, mortifying case that, of course, Sherlock Holmes was able to solve by looking at the man's cuff links. He always wondered how Sherlock was so observant.
He held his sixth glass of vodka in his hands, staring into the clear abyss of the unnerving liquid. It wasn't his favorite drink, but he always found himself drinking it, especially on a day like this.
"Hey man, it's time to close," The gruff owner of the bar exclaimed.
Lestrade gulped down the rest of his drink and left money on the counter. He quickly left the warmth of the bar and walked out onto the cold, London pavement. A chill crept threw his body, as the cold threatened to seep through his clothes.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked down the grey sidewalk. He focused his eyes on what was in front of him, trying to keep himself from his hated thoughts that threatened to creep back into his mind. The vodka helped a little with keeping his mind at ease.
As Lestrade kept walking at a slow pace, he glanced at several people he passed by. There was one couple that caught his eye. They held each other tightly in a warm embrace, staring lovingly into each other's eyes. This sight tore at Lestrade's heart.
Lestrade tried his best to keep his emotions covered deep down in his body, but bubbled as he let his guard down. He couldn't help himself from feeling the way he was. Seeing a bench, he quickly sat in it before he could fall to the ground in anguish.
"Why… why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been me?" Lestrade whispered hoarsely under his breath. He hated himself.
The salty tears rolled down his cheeks, as he sat in the cold seat, which was the only thing supporting him at the moment. I didn't mean for it to happen. I never wanted her to get hurt. I should have been the one to fling from the car. Lestrade thought to himself.
He lowered his head, not wanting anyone to see him sobbing like a child. He closed his bloodshot eyes, shutting out the rest of the world. Her face appeared, with a smile that was brighter than the sun. Her beauty masks all the ugliness of the world around him. Her peaceful, blue eyes blinked joyfully, causing her butterfly-like lashes to bat softly. Her long, golden hair bounced as she laughed her wonderful laugh. 'I love you, Greg, and I always will.' Her sweet voice filled his ears.
"I love you, too," Lestrade spoke softly, as if he were whispering in her ear right at this very moment.
Her image faded away into the darkness of his mind, as another image came into view. This one caused Lestrade to cringe in deep pain, as he saw her blood covered, pale face, frozen against the black pavement. Glass surrounded her frail, motionless body that was covered in gaping wounds from the impact of crashing into the road. Her white dress was soaked in blood.
Lestrade opened his eyes, to escape the painful picture that burned in his mind. His heart felt like it was being shredded to pieces. This is my entire fault. I was the one who was driving; I should have made sure she was buckled and safe before I drove off. I should have paid more attention to the road and the other cars around me. That God damn car should not have ran that red light. He continued to blame himself, and he will never stop blaming himself for the rest of his miserable life. She was the love of his life. They were going to have kids and grow old together. They were going to watch as their kids got older and fell in love. They were going to be each other's solid rock in situations like this, but they never planned that either one of them would be a victim in a fatal accident. They thought they were inseparable. Fate is screwed up in that kind of way.
Lestrade came back to his senses. He wiped away the tears that covered his tan face, as he stood back up. He needed to continue walking, if he wanted to get to his destination before it got too late. He fast walked all the way to the grim dimness of the church cemetery. His shaky hands grabbed onto the latch of the creaky, black gate and pushed it open. He passed by many old and new tomb stones until he reached the one next to the leafless willow tree.
Lestrade knelt down in front of the gravestone, as he brushed away the dirt that was in the crevices of the carved rock. He let his hand rest on the top of it. A weak smile shown on his face.
"Happy birthday, Mary. I love and miss you so much… and I always will."
A/N: I hoped you liked the story. I'm sorry that it is kind of depressing, but I wanted to portray what I truly thought happened to Lestrade's wife. He may always seem like a strong person, but not everyone lets their emotions show (Sherlock for example). Review if you would like. I am always open for suggestions.