Prompt from Domina Temporis: The ocean.
The waves crested, then smashed against the pebbled shore. The few stray beams of sunlight that made it through the gathered clouds glinted weakly off the slippery rocks. All was in shades of grey, a gloomy reflection of the watcher's gloomy mood.
It had been two weeks since his friend had shipped off to the Continent to fight in this wretched war. All Mycroft's efforts, and all of his own, had not been enough to stop the relentless tide of war from crashing over them, anymore than he could stop the waves from crashing against the shore below. All it had done was lost him more precious moments at Watson's side.
The waves crept ever closer, the salty spray splashing against his shoes and splattering his pants legs. The tide was coming in. It would creep closer and closer, like it had done thousands of times before, wearing away the rocks a little more, a little more, until one day there would be nothing left. Just the cliff, standing alone above the crashing waves.
The spray had reached new heights now, for what else could be that salty wetness tricking down his cheeks?
He turned away from the waves and back to his cottage, one lonely figure on the cliffside.