The Swan Queen | Sherlock

The Ghost

 "So, what do you think?" asked John, holding a box open to me.

"I think that if you don't put that away, people are going to think you're proposing to me," I replied with a laugh. "But it's beautiful, she's a lucky lady."

"I'll be the lucky one if she says yes."

"When she says yes. How are you going to do it?"

"Over dinner, I've booked a table at a restaurant tonight."

"How exciting!"

"So, what's new with you?" he asked as a waiter placed our food down in front of us. "Thank you."

"Not much, the offer we put down on the house was accepted, so that's nice. You and Mary will need to come out sometime and see it once we're moved in. Maybe I'll even be a proper little hostess and cook dinner for you both. Or, Finn will cook. He's been enjoying experimenting."

"How's that going? Are you two... you know, making any plans for the future?"

"We've just bought a house together, I think we're getting serious." I toyed with the food on my plate with my fork. "He's good with me, patient. I don't think I'd have gotten through the last two years without him. And you."

"Me? I didn't do much."

"You were there, that was enough. You helped me get through the hardest time of my life." I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "I miss him, so much. All this talk about clearing his name just makes me miss him even more."

"I know," he replied, "I miss him too."

"I just... I want to know why he did it. And I know, I shouldn't torture myself thinking what if and why. I just can't understand his thinking. I don't like not knowing."

"Now you sound just like him."

That made me smile.

It still hurt, even now, two years later. If Mycroft had his way I'd still be in therapy. I think he was always worried I'd break down again. But I was ok, really. I'd been through hell and back, and survived. I was less fragile now. I just hurt, and I missed Sherlock, missed our life in Baker Street. I hadn't even been back in the flat since that day. I couldn't face it. I wondered what it was like now, full of Sherlock's tat covered in dust, perhaps Mrs Hudson had rented it out and new tenants were living our lives.

Finn wasn't in when I returned home. He'd sent a text to say he was out for a few drinks with Ronan. That was another sore point for me, thanks to my mental state after Sherlock's death I'd missed the wedding of Ronan and Victoria, my childhood friends. They were understanding, of course, more than understanding. But I hated myself for missing it, missing out on celebrating with my friends, dancing the night away in matching bridesmaids dresses with Amy and Jess, having a slow dance with Finn maybe.

I missed out on so much in those eleven months. At least, I came out the other side with thirty million pounds in my bank account.

From the moment I stepped into the flat, something felt off. Because Finn wasn't here and I wasn't instantly smelling his cooking? No, it wasn't that. There was a glow coming from the sitting room, as though a lamp was left on. That might have been Finn, knowing I would hate coming home to complete darkness. I told myself that's all it was as I hung up my coat and took off my shoes.

I walked slowly towards the light, feeling slightly nervous still. I wasn't sure why, it was only a light that had been left on. In the sitting room, there wasn't any immediate sign of danger. Just the lamp by the armchair on. It was only a night light, left on by Finn because he knows how I get when I'm by myself and it's dark. That man knows me so well. I went to the window to shut the blinds, breathing a sigh of relief.