Recovery from Reichenbach (Sherlock X Reader)

Nothing

You take the syringe and inject it into your vein. It hurts like hell on high but the after works feel amazing. Sherlock had killed himself a month ago, leaving you miserable and clueless as to why he did such a thing. You were hurting so bad inside like the world was caving down on you.

You hated Sherlock! No, you missed him severely! It's that kind of complicated love/ hate relationship and God, was it killing you! You just wanted to die, waste away until you're nothing.

You are nothing. You have nothing. You mean nothing.

"Will you love and cherish him to the ends of the Earth and back, till death do you part?" the preacher asked, looking at you with true joy.

"I will," you reply, hand in hand with Sherlock, looking into the eyes of the man you love.

You can think, which means you can hurt. You need more drugs. You go to inject another dose into your forearm but something stops you. It wasn't one of those physiological realization moments, no, it was actual force. You try to push the needle to your skin but the force is great.

Then you realize it's not just a force, but a hand, belonging to a being. Of all days, why was it today that someone decided to stop by! You wish you knew who though. Your sight was too blurry and mushed together to make sense of anything.

"Y/N," the figure says in a panicked voice. You then deduce that it's not a figure at all, it's a ghost. A ghost that should be dead. Well if it's not dead it can't be a ghost because ghosts have to be dead. So you guess it's not a ghost. It's Sherlock Holmes, in the flesh.