Is this the end?
John didn't remember falling asleep.
A faint remembrance of warm lips travelling south, soft murmurs against his ears, engulfing arms and being close to another's heart beat were the last thoughts of the past night that lingered in his mind.
John reached out to find a warm body nest to him. He grasped cold air.
His eyes snapped open. Brain started working rapidly.
Sherlock?
John listened for little sound around the flat, give away of another's presence. Silence fell on John's eyes in crashing waves. Kicking away sheets John ran out into the living area.
"Sherlock?" Only the cold embraced him back.
"Sherlock?" John called out louder, knowing fully that he was alone.
He went through the motions of opening and peaking through the doors to his bathroom, kitchen and the other bedroom. Only to find more solitude, left behind by the man who he had invited into his life once.
Putting on his robe John burst out in the cold morning with naked feet. He stood in front of the building, putting on a poker face taking in the sting of cold and reality.
He knew he won't find Sherlock. He never did.
Why was he trying?
A breath came out of his mouth bursting from his lungs and rummaging his heart.
With steady feet and dizzy brain John went up the stairs and crumpled on his bed.
On the bed side table under a glass of water and a familiar red velvet box, lay a letter.
John wasn't aware of Sherlock's handwriting. But it seemed the only logical conclusion that the letter in fine cursive was from the man and no one else.
Breathing in John tentatively pulled out the letter from under the objects.
It read…
Dear John,
I am leaving.
I know the state of mind my departure will induce in you. But I am helpless.
Try not to degrade our love by thinking I came here to take advantage of you and left as soon as I have had my intentions fulfilled. I came here because I love you and you love me.
I came here to give you whatever little piece of my life I am allowed to give you. Hate me for that, if you may, but you had as much right to have it as much I had the right to give it you.
She asked me if I really loved you.
I said yes.
She didn't believe me, as maybe you are too having doubts now. You are allowed John.
I have given you no reason to trust me. No reason to believe that my declarations of love for you were true.
I told her you found me on the streets. She called me the lamest excuse you could make to leave her. That I was after your money and a comfortable home.
She was right, wasn't she John? Time and again you have provided for me and I have taken. Only taken from you and never given back.
She still loves you John. I know I am not the person to advise you, nor is it very pleasant coming from me, but I'll say this for the better interests of my love. You should take her as your wife, as you had previously intended. She will give you all the luxuries of companionship and love which you deserve and I am incapable of.
John, I can hardly provide you with safety, if I stay with you for long.
Don't worry John, I promise never to come poking into your paradise should you choose to make one for yourself. You will be forever safe from me.
Somewhere, someday, in some other world or life, we will be together, without any divide.
I remain your love…
You remain mine…
Sherlock.
John folded the letter nonchalantly and put it inside a drawer. He opened the velvet box and took a look at the diamond ring glistening like a teardrop inside. With a sigh he closed the box and put it away.
John took a bath, had breakfast and set out to work, like every other day.
Only today his eyes remained unseeing, dead.