The Game Is On

Chapter One: Without You

"Hey Sherlock..." I whispered, my voice wavering. I stared the black gravestone, placing a hand on the gold lettering. "Tomorrow's the day." I smiled weakly, looking down. "And... and I wish you could be here to see it." I tapped the grave and stood, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I love you Sherlock," I said quietly, before turning back to the street and retreating back to the unemotional soldier I so often pretended to be.

After I had left the cemetery, a man that I had failed to notice stood. "I love you too, John."

•

Mrs. Hudson slammed the tray on the table, tea spilling over the edges of the floral teacups. I watched silently as she placed a bowl of sugar cubes beside it, before muttering to herself and returning it to the kitchen.

"Not sure about that," she said, running her finger between her upper lip and nose. My fingers brushed against my mustache. "Ages you," she said sternly. "Just trying it out," I said, taken aback by her sudden outbursts. "Well it ages you." I looked back to the table, drumming my fingers against the wood. "Look..." I started. Mrs. Hudson cut me off. "I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it..." I sighed. "But just one phone call John!" her face softened, the anger melting into sadness. "I know.." I said, dipping my head. "After all we went through..." She sniffled, placing her hand on mine. I looked back up at the woman, my stony eyes meeting hers. "Yes... I am sorry" I cleared my throat and blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. She sat down across from me. "Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after... after..." She shook her head. "I just let it slide, Mrs. Hudson. I let it all slide. And it got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow." I sighed and turned my head, searching for something - anything to focus on. "D'you know what I mean?" I wrapped my hand around hers as she looked back at me, tears shining in her eyes.

221B hadn't changed. Dust adorned the furniture and golden shafts of light illuminated the flat. Mrs. Hudson stepped in behind me, flipping on the lights. "He never liked dusting," she said as I pulled back the curtains. "No, I know," I said, smiling sadly. Mrs Hudson paused. "So, why now? What changed your mind?" I took a deep breath. "Well, I've got some news." Mrs. Hudson looked at me, shocked. "Oh god. Is it serious?" she asked. "What? No, i'm not i'll. I've, uhm, well... I'm moving on." Mrs Hudson frowned. "You're emigrating." "Nope. Uhm - I've... I've met someone." I said, forcing an awkward smile. She looked me up and down, a grin appearing on her face. "Oh, lovely," she said clapping her hands together. "Yeah. We're getting married... tomorrow actually." The smile on Mrs. Hudson's face faltered. "So soon after Sherlock?" I stared down, nodding slightly. "What's his name?" she asked. I sighed heavily. "It's a woman." "A woman?!" "Yes of course it's a woman." Mrs. Hudson laughed. "You really have moved on, haven't you?" "I'm not..." I paused, knowing my words were false. "gay."

•

Mary greeted me at the door, her warm arms pulling me into a tight embrace. "Sorry that took so long," I said, smiling. She ushered me into the flat. "Oh no, it's alright. You seem...," she placed a kiss on my cheek. "... better." My fingers traced the curve of her face. "Thank you Mary... For this, for you, for everything." She took my hand, interlocking it with hers. "Of course."

"I'm sure he would've loved you," I said quietly as Mary sat down beside me. "You really think so?" I turned to face her. "Yeah definitely" She rested her head on my shoulder. "He's watching over you John," Mary said softly. "Mary you know I don't believe..." She hushed me. "You don't have to." I gave her a questioning glance, furrowing my brow. She just sighed softly and closed her eyes. "I love you John."

Hours later, my eyelids fell as my body lulled me to sleep. The soft melody of a lonely violin haunted my dreams and a covert sadness shadowed my sleep as I tossed and turned restlessly. Four words echoed in my head. "I love you John." But the voice that sung them out was not Mary's, but that of a mysterious man - soft as water, but cold as stone - who lurked in my thoughts and held my heart in his hand. Sherlock.