John
After I finish the letter I read the last part over and over again. I read it until the words are seared into my mind. My cheeks are wet, but I do nothing to dry them. There's a certain pain one feels when you lose someone you love. It's an awful heart wrenching, stomach turning feeling and you can't do anything about it. You cry in hopes that your tears will wash that feeling away, but it doesn't. You cry until you can't breathe, you cry until your eyes can't cry anymore. Crying doesn't solve the issue, but it makes you feel somewhat better. Tears separate the compassionate from the heartless. The humans from the robots.
" John?"
I turn, half expecting Sherlock to be standing in the doorway. Half expecting him to ask why I'm in his room crying my eyes out. But it isn't Sherlock. It's Lestrade.
" Are you alright?" asks Lestrade, concern in his tone.
I want to say yes. I want to shake this off like nothing happened. But it hurts. It's a pain one can't ignore. It's a pain that shouldn't be ignored. A fresh flow of tears streams down my face. "No, I'm not." I choke out.
Lestrade walks over to me and sits down next to me. " I'm sorry," he whispers quietly, " I know how much it hurts."
But he couldn't possibly know how much it hurt. Sherlock was my best friend. " Why does it hurt so much?" I croak.
" It hurts because it matters."
YOU ARE READING
Surviving the Fall
FanfictionHow did Sherlock Holmes survive the fall? Fans have come up with theories, some amazingly absurd, but none have been quite right. With Sherlock's last hours coming up, he writes all of it down. He writes it for one person. No one else will see this...
