Well, here we are. the whole 10 days it took to upload this fic. I just want to make it clear that I spent a lot more time on this than you may think. No, it's not my finest work with language and detail. But I do like the storyline and this last chapter has some poetic elements. AND SOMEHOW IT ENDS SORT OF HAPPILY. Which isn't what I had planned/wanted. Prepare for Hobbit and TFiOS references. Anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. IT STILL NEEDS A TITLE *cough* comment ideas for that *cough* And also, I hope you stick around and see how you fancy my other fics. Thank you all for reading (and probably wasting valuable time on) my fic. 20 and 4. Love, Kaos.
Is it an epilogue or just a chapter 10? I don't know.
They never went together. They would go alone, in secret. Each of them thinking the other never went. Sherlock would go sometimes when John was at work. He usually said nothing. He just stood there, looking at his son's name in stone.
It was spring when they went together for the first time since the funeral. The trees had regained their leaves and some had lightly colored flowers hanging down off the branches. The grass was green and a slight breeze made each blade sway gently. They stood in silence, looking down at the stone with their hands in their pockets. The gentle rustling sound of the leaves filling their heads where quiet memories did not mutter. They were there for a while before John spoke. His voice was low and soft.
"It doesn't feel real. Like those dreams you wake up from and forget all the details. But you know it was a good dream. A dream that was free of all the pain you felt as you fell asleep and the pain that is almost guaranteed when you wake up. And you try to fall asleep again to continue that dream…"
Sherlock looked at John as he paused. "But it never works. You fall asleep to something new." Sherlock looks back down as he continues, "And it doesn't even numb the pain. Not even for a few seconds."
John nodded, his eyes red with tears.
"Nine years is a long time, John."
"It's not nearly long enough."
"I know. I want more days for Hamish than what he got. But I am thankful for our little infinity."
John closed his eyes tightly as more tears ran down his face, eventually falling on the swaying grass. He turned and started walking away, never lifting his face.
Sherlock glanced back at John before resting his hand on top of the stone bearing his little boy's name. A tear formed in the corner of his eye as he whispered, "I'll always remember you. Remember me… But remember my better side. I love you."
He sighed before turning and walking after John. He caught up, grabbed John's arm, and spun him around. He was surprised to see John's face so red and his eyes so filled with tears. Sherlock hugged him tightly, feeling his warm, shaking breaths on his neck. He pulled back and put his hands on John's shoulders.
"He is far away. He is far, far away from us. He walks in starlight in another world. Where there is no pain.
John stared at him, still crying. Sherlock took his hand and started walking slowly through the trees and stones and benches.
"I have walked there sometimes. Beyond this city and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fill the air. It's dark for a moment. And then you see it."
John stopped and looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "See what, Sherlock?"
He smiled softly as he spoke. "White shores. Dark blue waves caressing the edge of the land and reflecting the moon. You look up and, if you're lucky, you'll see a shooting star. For a moment, you'll think that there's nothing to wish for. You think that nothing in life could be better. So you sit in the sand and you look up at the moon and memories start coming back. You remember everything. So you wish for an army doctor somewhere in London. That he might sleep through the nights and find joy in something."
John smiled and stood on his toes to press his lips to Sherlock's. He pulled away and kept hold of Sherlock's hand as they walked back home.