Eccedentasiast (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Ten ; Sherlock

I stared numbly at the polished marble headstone. Olivia Greene. Loving Wife. Died age 23. May she rest in peace. Plain. Simple. Short. Just like her life, cut off too early. She wasn't meant to go like this. She was meant to die in bed, surrounded by her family, with grey streaked hair and a witty retort at her lips. Not like this. Not young. Not with her youthful eyes and innocent smile. Not at night, with only me, the person responsible for her death. The tears came easily, blurring my vision. The only day of the year I let my emotions show. Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, settling on my coat and seeping into the material. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Jacob and Mycroft had long since gone. John stood beside me. He broke the silence by clearing his throat silently. "Sherlock ? We should probably get going."  I turned to him, pulling my coat around myself. "I will leave later. Go without me." He looked doubtful. He'd vowed never to leave me alone on the day of Liv's death since last year. I urged him to leave, glaring pointedly before he raised his hands in mock surrender and headed away, sparing me a glance over his shoulder. My hair was now plastered to my forehead, black strands curling in front of my eyes. I swept them away before kneeling. Flowers covered the base of her grave. Purple and white, her favourite colours. My lips formed a thin line as I clenched my fists tightly. I missed her. Painful as it was to admit it.  Trying to deny it would be futile. With a choked sob, I stood up.
Move on Sherlock. You'll be fine. It seemed so real. For one moment, she was alive again, warm, breathing. The next, she was gone, rain pouring down where she'd been.

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By the time I got back to the flat, it was dark. There had been no cabs, so I'd had to walk. I slammed the door shut behind me, peeling off my drenched coat, laying it across the radiator for drying and propped the umbrella by the door. I then stormed up the stairs. Lucy looked up in surprise as I walked in, question clear in her eyes. I opted to ignore her, instead striding into my room. I changed out of my soaked clothes and fired my hair before walking back into the living room. I sat in my chair before turning to Lucy. "I imagine you have questions." She nodded, half smirking before talking. "Question Four : Where did you go ?" I cleared my throat and stared out of the window. "It was the anniversary of Liv's death so we went to her grave." She paled slightly and her pupils dilated. Uncomfortable with death. I frowned. "Well what did you learn ?" I asked, gesturing to the stack of papers scattered around the room. She shifted to face me. "I cross referenced the list of people working at the cafe and the people who worked at our first victim's company. Christine and Jensen Peters. Husband and Wife." She passed me a file which I opened. "It seems our killer is part of an organisation." I mused, turning the page. She nodded. "Join Murder Society, we meet every Tuesday !" She deadpanned. "3 hours a week." I continued. A smile ghosted her face. I flipped through the files before staring at the list of known associates. I frowned at the list in confusion. It took a few minutes to register the name in front of me and I groaned internally. High Wycombe it is.

AN : Sorry for the long wait guys, hope you enjoyed Xx