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Him.
It was all him. I was sitting in my chair, staring at the one opposite me. I should get rid of it, no one uses it. I don’t even let anyone sit in it, but I don’t have the heart to chuck it. I haven’t thrown any of his things out, even though he had been gone for three years now, I just couldn’t do it. They were a part of this place. I nearly moved out, numerous times, but the thought of having to pack all of his things into boxes made me change my mind. He’d put everything where it was in his room. I couldn’t move it. It wasn’t mine to move. I didn’t really like to touch his things. Though, it’s not like I never did, I did sometimes, when I was at my worst. I’d walk around in his dressing gown or sleep with his scarf in my arms. I’d never go out in it though. I was afraid to lose it. It was his favourite. I sometimes slept in his bed too. Not often, but when it had been a month since the fall I slept there for the first time. It happens every month now. Just once, every month. It still smells like him. The whole flat does. Mrs Hudson keeps trying to clean it but I wont let her. I don’t want to lose that smell. I also find it very hard to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see his body hitting the pavement. The blood. His eyes, still open. The impact. I couldn’t do it. I only ever slept due to exhaustion, when I hadn’t slept in days, or when I took my pills. Sleeping pills, prescribed by my doctor. I didn’t like them. I looked awful. I hated eating. I hated sleeping. I hated medical advice. I hated going out and I hated moving. I don’t see the point any more. Of course, everyone is always worrying about me, even Mycroft, but I’ve lost the ability to care. None of them really understand. Yes, they got on well with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson, Greg, Mycroft and even Sally but, not like I did. They all in turn come round twice a week to see whether I'm okay, to try and feed me, to try and make me smile. It never works. He was my best friend and I can’t live without him. I am so close to giving up. Every day, getting up is a chore. The phone rarely got answered either. My councillor says I’m depressed. I prefer the term, lonely.
There was a knock on the door and I ignored it. I usually did. They’d leave soon if I didn’t answer. I didn’t really have the energy to get up. They knocked again and still I sat there, staring at the empty chair opposite me. I sometimes spoke to him. He wasn’t really there, but I told him things. Everything. It was stupid really but, he was the only one I wanted to talk to, but I couldn’t.. because he was dead. My best friend was dead. He’d left me. I hated life without him. He made me smile and he made me feel happy. Cared about. Wanted. Some people would laugh if I said that to them. I felt wanted because of.. him. People didn’t believe he had feelings. But I felt them. He didn’t really openly show it but, I felt them. I knew he felt something deep down. I heard a third knock on the door and sighed, stood up and walked downstairs to the main door. I opened the door and my mouth dropped open, “John”.
I staggered backwards and crashed straight into the stairs, falling down onto my bum. I grabbed at the wall for support but I couldn’t pull myself up. My legs had stopped functioning. He stepped towards me and I tried to shuffle further backwards. I shook my head, trying to tell him to stop, but nothing came out. He luckily understood, stopping, looking down at me, “it’s okay”. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, just to see if I was dreaming. I wasn’t. Tears started to run down my face and my mouth was still hanging open. I could feel my whole body shaking and I could barely breathe. How was this possible? How was he even here? He was dead! I saw him die! I gasped for air, not taking my wide eyes off him for a second. I tried to stand again, but I still couldn’t do it. I was so in shock, I couldn’t even think how to work my own limbs. He shut the door and crouched down in front of me, staring back at me, “it’s okay now, I’m here”. I shook my head again, trying to find some words but I couldn’t, my mouth had gone completely dry. I didn’t know what to say. “Sherlock”, I managed to choke out and he grabbed hold of me, hugging me tight against him. I cried against his shoulder and he hushed me, running one of his hands up and down my back, trying to calm me. I clinged onto him as tightly as I could, as if he’d disappear in an instant, just like he did in one my dreams. He pulled away and held his hand out for me to take. I grabbed it and squeezed it as tightly as I could as he pulled me up off the stairs. I finally found my balance, though he didn’t let go. He walked with me up the stairs to our flat, clinging onto my hand as tightly as I was holding onto his.
He sat down in his chair and pulled me with him, letting me sit on his lap. I didn’t want to be parted from him for even a second. I wanted to stay with him forever. “Sherlock”, I whispered, finally letting go his hand, but just so I could wrap my arms around him. He kissed my forehead, then moved his kisses to my temple, down my nose then ever so briefly, on my lips. He looked me in the eye and smiled at me, making me smile back. I hadn’t smiled in a long time. A very long time. I softly kissed his lips again and he kissed me back. It was so delicate, as if our lips were made of glass, as if we were scared to break them. I’ve wanted to kiss him for so long. Years. I’ve waited years. He shifted me round so my head was on his shoulder and my legs were dangling over the arm of the chair, sort of as if I was a baby and he was cradling me. He wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me close and the other ran through my hair. I felt so relaxed and I just wanted to fall asleep in his arms, yet I couldn’t bear the thought of taking my eyes off him for even a second. “I missed you, so much”, he whispered and I looked up at him, “you have no idea”, I whispered back and he smiled. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered again and I closed my eyes, not wanting to cry any more. “I did it to save you. It was all for you, I swear. Anyone else and I wouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t let them hurt you because I lo-“, he stopped mid sentence and I smiled. I knew what he meant, “I love you too”. He leant down and kissed my forehead, “sleep”. I opened my eyes to look at him one last time before I was going to fall asleep. Those beautiful black curls and that long neck. His eyes as they stared down at me and those bow lips. Those soft, elegant lips that I longed to kiss every passing second. He was so beautiful and I was so in love with him, “promise you wont leave?”. He smiled down at me, “you’ll wake up in my arms, promise”. I sighed happily, closing my eyes and falling to sleep instantly, for the first time, in three whole years, with only one person on my mind.
Sherlock.