Oh, Sherlock

This Is The Way The World Ends.

Three weeks after - to the day

I stand next to John, looking up at Sherlock. He's standing on the very edge of a building, on the phone with John. John steps forward and I see Sherlock put his hand in front of him. "Sherlock, what's going on?" John says and stops moving. They talk to each other for a minute, but I'm not listening. I'm trying to find a way to get up there without Sherlock seeing me. There isn't one. Sherlock hangs up the phone and steps off the edge.

My heart is pounding in my ears. All I can hear is deafening silence, despite the busy London street, as his black coat flutters in the wind. Time stands still as I fall onto my knees, my body racking with sobs. Tears flood my face as my heart shatters into a million pieces. A loud scream sounds in my ears, breaking the deadly silence.

"SHERLOCK!" John screams.

I sit up straight in Sherlock's bed breathing heavily and sweating profusely. I wipe my face and find tears on my hand when I pull away. I peel away the blankets and sit on the edge of the bed, my face in my hands. 'Why Sherlock?' I think miserably. I pull my hands away and rest my elbows on my knees, looking over at the digital clock on Sherlock's nightstand. 3:30 a.m. I sigh and get up off of the bed. 'I'll never get back to sleep,' I think. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I undress and carefully take off my locket. I quickly shower, dress and brush my hair and teeth. I look at the locket on the counter and slowly pick it up, opening it to reveal the picture inside. Sherlock is smiling brightly at the camera, his arms around my shoulders. I look at myself in the picture. I looked so happy then, like nothing in the world could make me stop smiling.

I look up at myself in the mirror and compare myself to the girl in the picture. My face is gaunt, I have dark circles under my eyes. My once beautiful auburn hair hangs at the sides of my face like old rags. My once bright, sparkling green eyes are dark and sad. My skin is paler than usual and I can very clearly see my collarbone. I am haunted by nightmares of Sherlock. I wear his clothes and sit in his chair. I've re-read The Science of Deduction nearly a million times over. I hardly ever leave the flat anymore. John has to remind me to eat and drink. It's hard to believe that it has only been three weeks.

I close the locket and put it around my neck gingerly, as if it would break merely by touching it. I walk into the dark sitting room and sit in his chair. I pick up John's laptop and quickly enter the password. I search up The Science of Deduction, reasoning that it couldn't hurt to read it over once more. Telling myself that this will be the last time I read it, even though I know it won't be. I wake up to John gently shaking my shoulder.

"Violet," he says gently, "Violet, I'm going to work now. Don't forget to eat something." I nod and close his laptop, setting it on the table near the window. 'John opened the curtains again,' I think and close them. I sigh when John shuts the door to the flat. I look wistfully at Sherlock's violin and I pick it up. I sit in his chair and begin to play Sherlock's favorite song. 'I miss my Sherlock.'