a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson moves out of Baker Street.
His landlady remains behind.
Sherlock and friends do not belong to me.
Moving On 3
A single pot
Of fresh-brewed tea;
Milk added
Absent-mindedly.
Her tea cup raised,
A careless sip;
A twinge,
An ever-creaking hip.
A quiet kitchen;
Peace and calm.
No sudden noise,
No loud alarm.
~0~
No hurried footsteps
Up the stairs,
No reckless thief
Caught unawares,
No hopeful client
At the door;
No nights of drama
Any more.
No random raids
For hidden drugs;
No blackmailers,
No whores,
No thugs.
~0~
A peaceful life,
A gentler pace;
No biscuits hoarded
"Just in case".
A well-used tea tray
Put aside.
Her daily joy,
Though long denied.
A strange
And melancholy year;
The end of all
She'd held so dear.
~0~
Their flat;
Unoccupied,
Preserved.
Her grief
For what was lost
Observed.
His kit bag
And his cane
Now gone;
Her final tenant
Moving on.
~0~
She missed the chaos
Mess and noise.
And,
Most of all,
She missed
Her boys.
~0~