My Infinite

Come Back

John sighed as he trudged through the cold snow.

Today was the day. The 1 year.... the word anniversary sounded too cheery for John. This was the day Sherlock had died. Exactly 1 year ago. And John was on his way to visit him.

Today was different. John did not get a yellow rose, but a red one. He didnt really care anymore about what people thought. He knew he loved the Sociopath, but sadly he had never had time to tell him.

He moved through the 2 inch snow, and smiled a little as he saw Sherlock's grave in the distance.

He jogged over, as if he were seeing the actual detective.

"Hi," John panted as he made it to the grave. "I um...." he scratched his head, and shrugged.

"I got a raise today," he chuckled. Not really caring about the snow, he sat down on the grave, and leaned his body against the cement engraved with the words 'Sherlock Holmes'

"Its um.... its been one year..  since you..." he swallowed. The tears were coming. The tears that he had shoved down, were coming back up again in pools of sorrow through his blue grey eyes -they werent that blue anymore... just sort of... dull-, and he continued to speak to the dead detective.

"Since you... jumped," John tried to make it sound pleasant, but it only made It worse.

"I um... I brought you something," he pulled out the red rose, and placed it next to him.

"I know its not the usual yellow one, but..." he heard ruffling in the trees, and he turnd his head lightly, to look behind the grave. There was nothing.

"... not the usual yellow one," he continued, turning back to look forward. "But...." he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back.

"I..." he never thought it would be this hard, especially since hes... dead.

"I... I um.... Sherlock you left and... and I miss you... I wish you were here," he began to draw circles in the snow, while he spoke. "And I know that... its too late and pointless, and I know I'll never get to see you again, or hear your deductions, or feel your feet on my lap because you're to lazy to move them," he let out a cracked chuckle, and tried his best to not let the tears fall.

"But... you're too amazing, and I cant do it anymore. So wherever you are, I hope you're listening," he said, looking up at the sky.

"I cant keep it in anymore,  he sighed, and then took a big breath. "I... I love you," his voice cracked, and he quickly shut his eyes, a tear falling from his right. "And you never got to hear me say it.. I dont... I dont even know if you love me back..." Another tear. "I guess thats best right," he let out a forced chuckle.

He sighed, and stood up, wiping away the tears.

"Its really cold out, so I best be going," he turned around, and took one last look at the grave.

"Goodbye Sherlock, i'll... see you soon," and he turned around.

Sherlock sat in the tree, covered in shock. He watched John leave, and suddenly, his memories recollected, and a tear fell.

He shut his mouth, and jumped from the tree.

He walked over to the grave, and picked up the red rose in the white snow. He looked up, seeing his blogger leaving the cemetery.

He smiled to himself, but it quickly turned into a frown. He felt his heart drop a bit, and his eyes widened

John never says goodbye.

Out of all the times he had visited...

He had never said goodbye

Why suddenly had he decided to do it? Did he not care anymore? He said he couldnt do it, he said he-