Believe in Sherlock

Chapter 14- Maggie's POV

One year After The Fall...

It's been a year and John has slowly come out of the dark depression. He even started dating a lovely lady named Mary.

Me on the other hand still had nightmares and even hallucinations of Sherlock.

Now I'm not obsessed with him or anything. I just miss him.

It left a heaviness in my heart that I've never felt before. My voice often cracked and the only thing that seemed to help at all is talking to John over the phone. I haven't been to the flat in a month at least.

He always finds a way to distract me, even if it's only for a minute I'm still extremely grateful.

I lay in my flat as I normally did when I had nothing to do. I'm going over to John and Mary's flat (yes they moved in together and now live in 221b) in an hour even if they didn't know it.

I had my black silk robe wrapped tightly around my skinny body. I couldn't seem to get comfortable.

I tossed and turned, aggravated at the lumpy couch.

After a few minutes of attempting to get comfortable, I gave up and trudged to my room to get changed.

I changed into a pair of black work pants, a slim fitted purple button down, black shoes, and my black trench coat.

I let my curly hair down and stomped out of my room. I was unusually grumpy today, I guess for lack of comfort...and sleep.

I still had 45 minutes before I go to 221b. I decided to go to my quiet place. The place I had spent most of my time at for the past year.

Sherlock's grave.

The cab ride wasn't too long and after paying the cabbie I walked to the old tree where Sherlock's shiny black headstone stood alone. Just like he was most times. Alone.

I knelt down and closed my eyes. I listened to the chirping of the birds and the wind rustling the leaves.

I heard footsteps and opened my eyes. I knew who it would be.

Sherlock's figure stood behind the headstone with a solemn look on his face.

"You're early." He commented.

"I was bored." I replied simply.

"How do you think I feel?" He retorted.

I smiled slightly and wished he was really there. I knew it was another hallucination, I had them often. Sometimes at the cemetery and sometimes in my own flat. He showed up everywhere I went.

"You can't feel. You're not really there. I know you're not...but I wish you were. God, I miss you." I confessed in a small and shaky voice.

Sherlock's figure said nothing. He just stood there and the window blew his black curls in his face.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

"Do what?" He asked.

"Jump." My voice cracked at the word that sprung up so many memories. So many emotions I didn't even know existed.

Sherlock didn't answer that either. Of course he didn't answer. How could my sub-conscience answer the one question that has haunted me for a whole year.

I looked at the headstone. The letters engraved into the black stone swam before my eyes to the point my eyes had trouble focusing on anything.

I blinked repeatedly and looked over at the spot Sherlock was standing. He was still there, but now he was crouched down and was looking at me intently.