The color of love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Placed after Reichenbach fall, John learns how much meaning colors can have. JohnLock. BBC Sherlock.

Submitted: June 18, 2014

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Submitted: June 18, 2014

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I wake up, my heart is pounding and I can feel a headache coming on. Another nightmare. They happen more and more lately. I sit up and calm myself, noticing that the time is 10 o' clock, I've overslept. I roll to the side of the bed, my back screaming at me to stop, when I do I stare at the blackness of an empty room. I'm not used to Sherlock not being here, I know it will take time. A month ago, I watched Sherlock jump from the roof of St.Bart 's. He forced me to watch him. I still can't shake the feeling that I could have stopped him, yet he prevented me from doing so. I sighed, not much else to do but move on with life like before we met. I applied for a job at St.Bart 's in the emergency room, maybe it can replace the adrenalin rush I got when working with Sherlock. I drag myself out of bed and pull on a faded blue tee and a pair of tan khakies. As I walk out of my room I bump into Mrs.Hudson, she had been coming up to check on me.
"I am so sorry Mrs.Hudson I didn't me-"
"You're fine dear, I thought you were gone already, I was gonna fetch your laundry and make your bed."
"Thanks but you're not my housekeeper, I can pick this up when I get back. But thank you for the offer."
"Don't worry 'bout it dear, I know how it feel to loose someone you love."
"I'm not gay, w-we're not a couple."
"Are you quite sure love, I could swear you two were never apart. And I saw the way you two looked at each other and silently swore to protect each other . You may not know it, but I saw you two and always knew you were a couple, no mater how much you yourself denied it"
All this time,all this bloody time I could of spoke to Mrs.Hudson and she would understand. I gave her a hug and walked down the stairs listening to the familiar creak of each step. When I get to the base of the stairs and hobble over to the coat rack, I scoop up my old jacket and pick up my old cane. Since Sherlock died my psychosematic limp has returned and I have taken up walking with my cane again. Sherlock would be ashamed that I use it again, but today is the day that I finally go to Sherlock's grave.
As I shut the door behind me, my cane hit a puddle and splashed my pants.
"Bloody h-!" I screamed out, barely stopping myself, feelings interfering with logic. Ignoring my wet pants I waved for a taxi but soon decided to walk off my anger. About a mile down the road, I see the cemetery where Sherlock is. Outside the gate is a flower stand, and I decide to get a flower for the grave but soon turn away. When I look back I see them, two roses, one tan as my sweater, the other blue as his scarf. I get them to represent us, but cried as I neared the grave. Slick black with his name imprinted in white. I set the roses side by side like Mrs.Hudson described us, always together. Then I sat down by his grave, back against the headstone beside the roses.
"I go to work at the Emergency room to try to occupy myself, and I walk with a cane again. I know you probably disapprove of it, but you were the only reason it went away. Remember the day we chased that taxi across town." I forced a smile as if I was talking to him, bringing up an old memory.
"We ran for miles, and when we got home your friend arrived with my cane. You said it was to prove a point and that he would show me it." I sighed, he can't hear me, so why do I try? I drop my head between my knees as I begin to cry.
"It's alright John, I am here for you. I will never leave you, we are always together."
"S-Sherlock? Is that you?" I whimpered, not quite grasping what is happening.
"Yes John, I'm here." I can feel him now, he is pulling me close and cradling me in his arms. His smell wafting over me in waves, paired with my tears. I curl up in his lap holding tight to him, determined not to lose him again.
"I did it for you John, you, Molly, and Mrs.Hudson. Moriarty's gunmen would have killed you all if they hadn't seen me jump"
"B-but how?"
"Don't worry my dear, I'll explain it all once we get to our flat. I'm sure Bart 's will understand." My dear, he may of said dear but I know he meant love.
"I love you too Sherlock, I will always love you." He smiled, I understood, he loved me too in his weird genius way, and I loved him for that too. In fact, I don't think I have a single reason not to love him. Hand in hand, as we left the cemetery, each holding a rose. Mine in my other hand, and his poking out of his coat pocket, resting against his chest beside his identically coloured scarf. His color, our color of love.


© Copyright 2017 Ace Dagger. All rights reserved.

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