60 Ways to Say Goodbye - A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Three

I walked through the local shopping center looking for a store where I would find the perfect gift. It was impossible to shop for Sherlock. He barely ate anything and he knew what every gift was the moment it got into his hands. There was no surprising him.

I stopped in front of the Lindt chocolate store. Sherlock didn’t like eating, because digestion slowed him down, but nobody can resist chocolate.

Even the dead.

I stopped and thought to myself for a second. Why am I buying Sherlock a gift? He’s dead. He can’t use it. He can’t appreciate anything (not that he would when he was alive). I‘m being stupid. Just buy gifts for Greg, Molly and Mrs. Hudson and leave.

And I was about to…leave, that is. But then I remembered how each day, when I had gone to visit Sherlock’s grave, the yellow rose from the previous day had been gone. They don’t collect flowers every morning. I know, because I saw other grave sites scattered with them.

I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. I went inside the chocolate store and picked out an arrangement of different dark chocolates. Dark chocolate was his favorites. Sherlock liked anything dark, to be honest.

I paid for it before I could come to my senses and left to find gifts for others.

I bought Mrs. Hudson a new tea set that was painted with light green and dark purple flowers. For Molly, who I had invited as a way to show that there should be no awkward feelings towards each other, I bought silver flower earrings that I thought she would like. I brought Greg Lestrade a new stainless steel coffee mug.

I was on my way out of the shopping center when something caught my eye in a window display.

It was the color of his scarf. A blue notebook. It had a strap that wrapped around the book and then tied in the front to conceal the pages. I’m not quite sure why I knew he would like it. I had a gut feeling that it would be used.

So I bought it along with a pen (not a pencil. A pencil could break too easily).

I left the center and caught a cab back to Baker Street.

“Hello, John,” Mrs. Hudson greeted me, “Did you have a nice time shopping.”

“I did, thanks,” I told her.

“That’s good.”

I brought my bags upstairs to my flat.

“Mrs. Hudson, do you by any chance have wrapping paper that I could use?” I called.

“I do, hold on a moment and I’ll bring it up,” she answered.

In the time that I waited, there was a buzz in my pocket. I took the phone out. It wasn’t my phone, it was Sherlock’s. Yes, I carried it around with me. I couldn’t help that it made me feel closer to him, as much as it hurt me on the inside. It should be him using it, not me.

I checked in messages.

Once again, it was Mycroft.

Merry Christmas, John. Say hello to Greg Lestrade for me.

I wasn't aware that Mycroft was friends with Greg, but I texted him back anyway.

Merry Christmas to you as well. Will do.

I wished he would stop texting me. I didn’t like using Sherlock’s phone. Greg and I were the only people he ever texted using his own phone (usually he borrowed other people’s in case someone recognized the number). I didn’t feel right using his phone to text others. I felt that it was violating his personal wishes.

Next time, I would tell Mycroft to text me on my phone.

I heard Mrs. Hudson coming up the stairs so I slipped the phone back into my pocket.