Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again
Three Years Later…
I was standing in front of his gravestone.
It had become custom to me to visit him now and then, usually when I could no longer bear the silence surrounding me. Which was almost every day since his death. But today was different. It was the day I was going to say goodbye. For good.
The rain drizzled down in light sheets, the chilly weather creating frosted icicles on the grass. I had been standing there for ten minutes, my hair already plastered to my neck and face, but I didn't care. I was there for a reason and would not allow the weather to sway me in my mission. I had put off what needed to happen for too long already. I solemnly stared at the shiny granite, once again memorizing the gold scripted lettering of Sherlock's name. I used to smirk at the ridiculously flashy design of his headstone, if only to stop myself from breaking down. I wasn't laughing or joking now.
"I can't do this anymore." I whispered, taking a shaky breath. I felt parched, my throat having been abused for so long in my mourning. I was also tired, the long nights of crying preventing me from resting.
"I'm tired of crying over you." I continued, clenching my bare fist tightly. I had long ago given away Sherlock's gloves. Like most of his things, they left too many painful memories.
"It's time I let you go. It's best for the both of us." I trembled, placing my hands upon my neck. With shaky hands I unraveled the beautiful blue scarf that I had refused to part with for these three years. I held the accessory in my hands, willing myself not to cry. I had done enough of that already. I took a deep breath before finalizing our parting.
"Goodbye Sherlock." I choked, placing the last remnant of him on top of the grave. I turned then, not allowing myself to spare it another glance. The air shifted then, blowing unforgiving cold on my now bare, neck. I shivered, but only wrapped my coat around me tighter.
I was soaked by the time I reached the flat. I no longer referred to it as my home anymore. It felt more like an emotional prison to me.
I entered the flat and shut the door, before trudging up the creaky worn steps, my feet feeling heavier than ever before. I reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the barrier to my cell.
It was empty, save for a lone chair in the middle of the room. The piece of furniture was John's, though he let me keep the item, since I had removed everything else out of the flat. He had taken all of his stuff and had helped me move Sherlock's items into a storage unit. I didn't have the heart or courage to sell all of it.
Not bothering to shed any of my drenched clothing, I plopped down in the chair, looking around the apartment for the last time. I had already found a new place and had all my stuff transferred there. This was just my day for saying goodbye.
I closed my eyes and inhaled, taking in all the memories surrounding me.
A knock at the door brought me out of my daze.
I opened my eyes and slowly stood, stretching my worn body. How long was I out of it? I wondered, making my way to the door. John said he would be by later to bring the chair to my new place, but I never expected him to arrive so soon. I thought, swinging open the door.
Needless to say, it wasn't John at the door.
I froze, my eyes wide. My body turned cold, fear and astonishment flooding my veins. I believed I was seeing a ghost. An apparition that had come to haunt me from the grave. If I had been holding anything I would have dropped it. But since I wasn't, all I could do was gape.
He looked like he did the day of his death.
Dark clothing covered his body, along with his signature long coat. Dark blue eyes stared intensely at me, from under a fringe of black curly hair, searching. In his hands, his damp scarf was held out to me, a question hanging in the air.
I took one look at the scarf, and reality set in. I realized what he had done, and what he was trying to do now.
Before I could even think about my decision, my hand flew to Sherlock's cheek, making contact with his real, though cold, flesh. A second later, I found my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to my level. I pressed my face to his neck and choked out a sob before answering his unasked question.
"Of course I forgive you."
Author's Note: And there you are folks, a happy ending! Though this is far from the end for these two. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! See you all next time!
Song; Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again, by Andrew Lloyd Webber