Just Flatmates {Johnlock Oneshots}

Purple Roses

(Sorry, but it's about to get angsty)

John stared at Sherlock's gravestone. This was the third time he's visited the cemetery. It had only been a little more than a month since Sherlock jumped from the top of Bart's. John felt weak every time he approached the grave of his former flatmate. Before his legs gave out on him, John lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs.
In his hands was a bouquet of purple roses. You don't see many roses in a cemetery, let alone a bouquet. John clutched the bouquet tightly in his hands.
Purple roses. Different coloured roses had different meanings. Red means beauty and it's a traditional way to say "I love you." Peach means "Thank you." Yellow means a new beginning or friendship. White means innocence. There are many different colours and so many meanings for each one. But purple means love at first sight.
John smiled just a little to himself, remembering the first time he met Sherlock. The day they moved into 221B Baker Street. It was such a clear memory in his mind. He remembers every bit of it.
John remembered how clever and charming Sherlock was. He remembered how the room became brighter whenever Sherlock smiled.
He figured he should say something to Sherlock. John turned and leaned against the gravestone with the roses still in his hands. He wanted to speak, but he felt too weak. He decided to ignore his aching heart and talk to Sherlock anyways.
'I'll say it now, because I probably won't ever say it again,' John sighed. He fought back his tears. 'My therapist wanted me to say it. She asked me to say it. I couldn't say what I wanted to say. Not with her.' John's voice cracked. He laughed at himself. 'Look at me. I'm hopeless. Sherlock Holmes,' John began. 'I love you. I've loved you since the first time we met. That's what purple means, doesn't it? Love at first sight.'
John waited as if to get a response from the gravestone. He wanted to be comforted by Sherlock's arms. His huge coat always made John feel better. But there wasn't a warm hug, neither Sherlock's big coat. Both of them were long since gone.
Wiping a tear from his face, John gently rested the roses in front of the black gravestone that read "Sherlock Holmes." John stood up and closed his eyes. He set his hand on the top of Sherlock's gravestone.
     'Please come back,' John whispered. 'Please don't be dead.'
     As John shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking away, he felt like he was being watched. He figured it was only because he was in a cemetery and continued walking.

As he saw John exit the cemetery, Sherlock quietly walked to his own grave. He picked up the roses John had brought him and sat in front of his grave. At first, he felt fine. Well, he felt the same as he had felt ever since his funeral. But then he felt horrible. His heart sank as he fought back tears. His hands tightened around the bouquet as a tear fell onto a petal of one of the roses.
     'I love you too, John.'