One More Miracle

The Final Resting Place

Chapter 3: John's POV (Point-Of-View)

When I arrived at Sherlock's cemetery, I paid the cabbie and got out. I had visited here twice before: once for Sherlock's funeral, and once with Mrs. Hudson. I hadn't been back since because when I come here for the second time, with Mrs. Hudson, I had broken down and started crying. My therapist had told me to tell Sherlock's grave everything I had wanted to tell him in person when he was on the roof of St. Bart's, and I had tried. I really had. However, I hadn't gotten through everything before I lost it, so I had to cut my conversation with my best friend's grave short. I had left with a request for one more miracle from Sherlock. I had asked that he not be dead. 

I walked down the winding path to Sherlock's grave, every nerve in my body tingling. Not only was I excited that Sherlock Holmes might be in this very same cemetery, but I was also nervous as to what I would say if I saw him. Mixed with the nervousness and excitement was a string of uncertainty, a string of doubt that I might not see Sherlock here today. I couldn't get my hopes up; I knew that, but I also couldn't give up hope. He might still be here. 

I could see the tree in the distance that marked Sherlock's final resting place. Well, maybe not his final resting place, more like a pit stop where he could refuel after falling off the roof of the freaking hospital. I had been looking down at my shoes, deep in thought and tracing the path with my eyes. When I looked up, I could swear I saw a shadow dash off into the trees, a swish of black that reminded me of Sherlock's coat. I decided that my mind was playing tricks on me and that I was just nervous about the possibility of seeing my lost friend again. Not really paying attention to my surroundings, I got tunnel vision focusing on Sherlock's grave and was drawn there like a magnet was pulling me towards it....

So here I was again, facing the black headstone with the words "Sherlock Holmes" engraved on it, still hoping for that miracle. That one more miracle. This time, though, the miracle felt much more possible; like Sherlock really had been listening that last day I had come to visit. Unfortunately, now that I was actually here, I couldn't help remembering my dream from the previous night, where Sherlock had been standing only a few meters away. Hopefully, I scanned the area for the back of a dark brown, curly head, even though I probably would have noticed a figure over 6 feet tall in a black coat and that kind of hair on my way in. I had expected to see nothing, and those expectations were met. Somewhat defeated, I looked back down at the headstone. I started talking.

"Um, hi, Sherlock, it's me, John," I began uneasily. I always felt stupid talking to an inanimate object, Sherlock's grave included. "Sorry I haven't been back in a while, it was just too painful. I hope you understand." 

I decided just to cut to the chase; if Sherlock actually was anywhere around, he would hopefully hear me. I raised my voice just a little so it carried over to the edge of a nearby forest, just in case my supposedly deceased flatmate was standing at the edge of the trees, listening. It was a long shot, but I was desperate. 

"Molly told me something interesting today. Do forgive her, she only wanted to make me feel better. I must be looking awful lately. I feel awful. 

"Anyways, she told me that she didn't think you were dead, and that you were only staying away from me because you weren't completely sure that it was safe to show yourself to me again. If you can hear me, know that I don't care if it isn't safe, I want you back. I want to see you again, Sherlock. I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE ANY LONGER!" 

My voice had been steadily rising to the point where I practically shouted the last sentence. I couldn't  take it; my whole body was shaking. All the suppressed anger that had been bubbling up inside me for the past five months was finally beginning to spill over. Luckily for me, I was the only person that I could see in the graveyard. If I hadn't been, I probably would have been attracting some unwanted attention.