Going to put on the next 4 chapters for you! Hope you enjoy!
Marie hated funerals. Yesterday she had attended her good friend Jake's and his mother's. She came home full of sadness and depression. They were killed the same way as her mother, she had escaped the same way, she had mourned the same way. She never got to say goodbye...
Tomorrow would be Sherlock's funeral. She was deep in thought until she accidentally poured some boiling water on her hand.
"Ow!" she exclaimed and ran her hand under hot water while stirring the cup of tea with her good hand. She gave John the cup of tea and looked at her father. He was so sad. He tried to look happy for her but she could see it in his eyes. They had lost their shine.
She left John's room and walked up the stairs and opened the door to Sherlock's room. She sat down on the empty carpet and closed her eyes. She always felt safe on his room. She could still smell his faint scent...
She sighed. Too young to die, she thought. He was brilliant, amazing, fantastic, incredible but everyone thought he was a fake. How could they be so stupid? Donovan, Lestrade, Anderson; Moriarty had poisoned their minds. How could they not see that? She was getting angry. She opened her eyes.
"I believe in you Sherlock Holmes." she said to the empty room.
She looked at the periodic table on his wall. He must have looked at that every night before he slept, well, the nights he actually came to bed anyway. She sighed and closed her eyes again.
"Marie?" she heard her father call. She stood and walked back out the door, closing it silently behind her. She knew he hadn't been in Sherlock's room since the incident. She knew it would be too hard for him. He hardly left his room anymore, it was the only place that wasn't touched by Sherlock's presence. She had a small smile on her face when she saw him standing in the doorway of the living area. She was proud that he'd got so far as to walk out his room.
"Dad?"
He leant against the doorframe. She could tell he was remembering him. He looked at the skull. He slowly walked over and picked it up.
"Dad, are you okay?" she asked. When she got no reply, she turned and left to see Mrs Hudson. Whatever he had originally wanted, it didn't matter anymore. He needed to be alone.
"I miss you Sherlock." he said to the skull in front of him. "I never thought I would have a friend as amazing as you. You're brilliant." he sighed and laughed slightly at himself. "Look at me, I'm talking to a skull..." he put down the skull where he found it. He walked round the room slowly, memories flooding his head. A camera in the bookcase, Sherlock continuously commenting on his blog, the smiley face on the wall with holes in its face from Sherlock's boredom, the drug raid... So many times.
John sat in the back of the dark car with Mrs Hudson, his daughter in the front. Marie looked in the rear view mirror to see her father looking forward with a very serious, sad expression. She clasped the single rose in her shaking hands and closed her eyes. An image of Sherlock appeared in her head saying "Flowers, why do they always give them flowers? They're dead John, they can't tell if they have flowers or not."A small smile crept on her face. It's because they don't know what else to do, she thought, it's too late to say goodbye.
Marie placed her rose on top of the grave and stood back away from the dark gravestone. She left the pair at the graveside to pay their respects privately and began walking around the graveyard. She saw them talking to each other, Mrs Hudson seemed angry and sad at the same time. Bless her, she thought. They had known him so much longer than her. She saw her begin to walk towards the church as her father stayed and talked to the grave. She felt tears fall down her cheeks. Seeing him broke her heart. She began walking towards the church as she saw John turn on his heel, but then she saw a tall figure. Her heart skipped a beat.
There he stood.
Blue scarf and that long dark coat.
Those dark curly locks.
Sherlock Holmes, back from the dead.