The Death of Sherlock Holmes

"Sherlock! Don't leave me! I-" It was no use…that line had gone dead. Unable to move, barely even able to breath, John looked up at the figure of his best friend atop a building. "NO!" he shouted, beginning to run forward…but then he stopped.
He had promised Sherlock he wouldn't move. He owed him at least that. Nonetheless, he couldn't bear to see his friend fall to his death…but he didn't dare look way. As his body flew from the top of the building, John felt himself take in a large breath of oxygen, nearly choking on it. The body hit the ground hard…and John felt a tear trickle down his cheek.
Quickly, he ran over to his friend, is dead friend…but no one could deny that he was more than just a friend…he was his other half.
"You damn b*****d…" he whispered to the corpse, taking his hand and checking for a pulse. "Don't die. Please…I need you Sherlock." He whispered, ignoring the crowd that was gathering around. He placed his ear to his friends, chest, listening for any sign of life. "SHERLOCK! THAT'S ENOUGH!" he yelled, choking on his own tears. "CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED YOU? DON'T LEAVE ME!" he began to press hard on Sherlock's chest, trying anything to get this unanimated body to breath again…but as he continued to persistently bang on his chest, he felt a pair of strong arms peeling him away…
Lestrade.
"John…he's gone." Lestrade whispered, almost in as much pain as John was…

                              The Grave of Sherlock Holmes

John Watson stared at the smooth, black gravestone. It had two simple words engraved into it. "Sherlock Holmes" Nothing more. There was nothing more it needed to say.
Slowly, he walked over, running his hands across the top of the black marble…he heard a tear drop onto the thick gravestone.
"Sherlock…" he managed to whisper through his shaky lips. "There was something I didn't get to say to you…before you…" his voice shook, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought best to skip that part of his goodbye. "I just wanted to tell you…"

                                  Sherlock POV

Sherlock Holmes stared at his gravestone. It didn't hold his body. Only he knew this. No one else. But that was not why he was staring at it in awe. No, he was staring at it because of the words that had escaped John Watson's mouth.
Never before had Sherlock felt stunned, until now. He felt so stupid. So naïve. How could he have done this? Why did he come to his own funeral? How dumb do you have to be?
Taking a deep breath, he began to walk away, turning his coat collar up and whispering. "I do too John…I always will."
As he walked away, the words of his comrade echoed in his head,

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes"

Reviews

[Taylor M.]

Omg THIS IS AWESOME!