A Study In Emotions

Reichenbach Melancholy

Ah, the meeting after Sherlock Holmes' death that was consequently blamed on Anderson, his romantic secret...
Donovan stood with Mrs Hudson and John. The lot discussed how impressive Sherlock seemed before exposed with Moriarty.
Anderson didn't want to face anyone, he knew and felt the anger from John.
This celebration of Sherlock's life was a group of people with sore eyes and tense glares.

Anderson had enough, so he headed down the hall...eyes setting on Sherlock's bedroom where they would endlessly insult each other and cuddle. Be themselves and if John entered, Anderson would roll off the bed and hide. My God he missed it, he really did. He was angry at Donovan...but more at himself for not noticing. The forensic investigator entered and immediately felt his knees get weak at the smell. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked to the perfectly made bed. Never having to be fixed again because there was no Sherlock to lay in it. No Sherlock and Anderson to cuddle or have the slightest intimacy. Phil traced his hand over the covers before sitting down, the bed sheets wrinkling under him.

The dark haired man felt a wave of weakness on his chest and felt his eyes watering, he muttered an insult of his lover's to himself with an upset smile. "You lower the IQ of the whole street."
And Sherlock lowered the spirits of Scotland Yard by falling to his death. Only then he heard Lestrade muttering to Mrs Hudson, asking if there were anyone else.

"oh...yes..There was a young man who went down the hall, such a quiet thing.."
John glared down the hall, noticing Sherlock's door had been opened..
He felt tightness as he stormed into the detective's room.
"What the HELL are you doing in here?! What do you bloody think gives YOU the right to be in HERE."

Anderson froze and looked at John and the other's who followed behind. "I-I can expla--"

"No. Seriously what."
John glared at him, clearly angry.

Lestrade butted in "John. Let em speak."

And the dirty blonde did, growling.

Anderson took a shaky breath "Sh-Sherlock..meant a lot to me. No one knew what was between us.."

Donovan raised an eyebrow "You and the freak? All he did was insult you!"

The young man looked deeply offended "Hes not a freak, Sally. He was my...lover."

The room went silent.
More silent then that time Sherlock's death was revealed. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the lot.
Mrs Hudson looked deeply surprised and so did the others.

Sally stared "You...and Sherlock Holmes? Lovers?"
As Watson took it in he sighed "Can we have some proof of it."

Phil shot up and rushed to the drawers, opening the middle left one and taking out a photograph of him and Sherlock.
The man with icy eyes kissing Anderson, he shoved it to John's chest before walking out of 221B Baker Street.

Again...silence.
Guilty and regretting silence.
Lestrade swallowed, yelling for Anderson to wait up but it was far too late. The silence of the Reichenbach Fall had hit Philip Anderson far too hard.