WN: I wrote this after listening to the song My Immortal, it’s a Sherlock one shot, dedicated to my two friends and sisters (as well as fellow Sherlockians) Kitty and Charlotte :) Please could you all let me know what you think? :) Thanks :) (Set after the Reichenbach Fall)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock series, neither do I own the song My Immortal, Evanscence does :3
“I'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all my childish fears”
So here we are again. I sit in the therapist’s office once more. How many months had it been since you left us all behind?
They keep telling me “words of comfort”….. That it’s “okay to grieve” how “we were all taken in by him, it is nothing to be ashamed of.” (That last phrase made me want to throttle Donovan on the spot).
They told me to seek help…. “A counsellor”; in the words of one DI Lestrade; he told me: “it’s good to talk about it”…. Like I was a victim of a robbery; the only robbery that was committed here was the loss of my best friend, my brother. So for the past few months I have gone through the motions; like a good soldier I have ploughed on; keeping a brave face. Most of them at the yard now try avoiding me; but I know they talk about me… no, about us.
“And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone”
Even after your death; you still haunt me; even after Mrs Hudson and I cleared away your things; your presence dominates everything in the flat; I found an experiment we missed the other day; a body part of some description left in the microwave…. I went to yell at you; but then I remembered. You were truly gone. Or were you?
I think Mycroft is feeling guilty; and so the git should. He helped Moriarty plan all of this; giving him your life story; stuff that you never even told ME. And the first I hear about it on an accompanying piece to headlines on the crap papers such as “SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS DETECTIVE: THE REAL STORY BEHIND THE FRAUD” I honestly thought that the Tesco security guards were going to call the police then. But they didn’t understand nobody does; I realize then; how much did I REALLY know about you?
“These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase”
I refuse to believe what they told me, no what YOU told me; you forgot that you made a mistake; the one mistake you ever made the first time you and I met; that Harry was in fact my sister; not my brother. And only a real person; a brilliant man could be honest enough to admit that. Dammit, YOU are the one who saved my life on more than one occasion.
“When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me”
There are people who believe in you, even after everything. Your homeless network has taken to the streets in force; spray painting “I believe in Sherlock Holmes” on every available surface they can find. According to Lestrade, his team even found a “Bankseyesque” one of you in the Deer Stalker hat… it seems you even have a celebrity following; one who’s somewhat elusive; something I am sure you will appreciate.
We are still loyal to you; despite your almost “inhumane” façade that you display; we know that you are an ordinary man; but a good man; with just as many flaws as the rest of us. Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and I; we all visit you. I know Molly and Mrs Hudson visit every day; Lestrade tries whenever he can. Mycroft….. well…. we try to avoid one another when we can.
I thought of you when we held your funeral; well of course I did; it was your funeral after all. It was a solemn affair; we came…. Though Mycroft I think watched from afar; coward. The minister made at least three grammatical errors; I half expected you to suddenly declare he was “wrong!”. Nothing is the same anymore….
“You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face – it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice – it chased away all the sanity in me”
I have always been amazed by you Sherlock; as your “loyal blogger” not just by your incredible ability; but how nobody has, well had been driven to a nervous breakdown. Then again, Lestrade did tell me when you joined them as their “consulting detective” there were a number of resignations; funny that. A few of your followers still come on to your website and the blog.
They keep trying to contact you; some have decided that I must have picked up some of your ability; so they offer me cases. I take some of them to keep me busy; but I can’t help but feel I am walking over your grave; it was your life, never mine. I tell the counselor that I’m fine; she’s kind, patient; if a little patronizing, as all good counselors seem to be; but she doesn’t know how bad it is. I see you every night; up on the roof top; some times that worm Moriarty is there; cackling like the madman that he was; I scream at you to wait but you never do; other times I reach you; only for Moriarty to rise from the dead and shoot you. I can’t do it.
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along”
I know that it’s natural; the five stages of grief; I know I have to accept your dead; move on with my life like everybody tells me; you will always be with me; hell if I didn’t know any better I would swear at times you haunt me in that bloody flat; which by the way is missing one thing. You.
I know we survived without one another before; but I have to tell you; when you jumped of that roof; when you died; so did a part of me; a part that like you I will never get back. I loved you, always will; you are the brother I longed for. I will never forget you……
*Press send* *Sending* *Message Sent*
I carefully place your phone amongst the rather impressive amount of flowers left at your grave; courtesy of Mrs Hudson. I know that you will never receive the message; but I hope that somewhere you heard it…
“ It’s getting late; I have to go now…. Goodbye Sherlock…..”
I take one last look at the marble headstone and begin the seemingly endless journey home; back to my, no, OUR flat.
“…………. Goodbye John” A single tear made its way on to my face… it’s going to rain soon and I too need to think about making my way home; to the darkness; the only place that will have me since the fall. I pick up my phone and after a moment…… I click reply.