Don't Be...Dead

Bonus 4-Remember

I handed John his tea and sat down across from him. We did this every day, it had become almost routine for me. Still, to John everything was new. And that killed me.

I took a deep breath before I spoke. "John, the doctors-they say you only have a few days left."

"Left for what?"

I hesitated a moment before answering. "To live."

"Oh." John looked down into his tea. "I don’t want to die," he said quietly. I stood and moved over to John, wrapping him in hug where he fell apart in my arms. I pulled him up so he was standing, leaning against me. After several attempts to calm himself, John finally regained control of his breathing. He untangled himself from my arms and hastily brought a hand up to wipe away his tears. "I-I’m sorry. I don’t even know who you are..." My heart plummeted and my face fell. John had been getting progressively worse, but never before did I have to remind him who I was. Other people, as well as some of the facts of our relationship and history, yes, but he always recognized me.

I tried to bring a smile to my face before he noticed. "I’m Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. Don’t you remember me?" I asked hopefully.

He drew his face together and he thought for a moment before something clicked. "Oh yes, we were going to get a flat share together. Is this it? I’m sorry, I don’t remember much..."

I felt tears streak their way down my cheeks. There was a time when I never would have let anyone, especially John, see me cry. Now I didn’t even bother wiping them away, knowing that fresh ones would just replace them.

"Mr. Holmes... Are you okay?" A sob shook my body at his use of the formal name.

"Sherlock," I said, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Call me Sherlock."

John blushed at my touch. "I’m not gay," he said quickly. A noise between another sob and a humorless laugh escaped my throat at the line he had said often during our younger years.

"Hold out your hands." John slowly drew his hands up from his sides and held them out for me to see. I took his left and flipped it over so his palm faced down. "What do you see?" He studied it for a moment before frowning.

"I’m married? Who am I married to?"

"Me," I said as gently as I could.

"I don’t remember..."

"Try," I said, putting my hands on the sides of his head and placing my forehead on his. He scrunched up his face in a way that under normal circumstances would have been cute and funny.

"I can’t..." I sighed. I knew it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t remember, that no matter how hard he tried the memories just weren’t there, but it still pained me to see him like this.

The doorbell sounded and I kissed Johns lips before moving away and composing myself as much as possible. I opened the door to reveal several family members and friends. I ushered everyone in and they sat down around the flat. Hamish stopped beside me and looked me up and down. "That bad?"

"He didn’t remember me..." Hamish watched me a minute before he was called over to sit next to Katie on the couch. I moved to the arm of Johns chair and sat down (my chair was currently occupied by Lestrade).

I let my eyes flick around the room to the familiar faces that were there: Lestrade, Molly, Harry, Hamish, his wife Katie, and their son Jake. "Where's Sophie?" I asked. After all, this had been her idea. She had gotten it from a book called Tuesdays with Morrie. A living funeral. So that people could say all the things they would at John’s funeral to him while he was still alive.