John never understood Sherlock's infatuation with corpses until he was standing over the consulting detective's. He knelt down to examine Sherlock's cold, still body and touched his face with the back of his hand. He traced Sherlock's bony cheekbone, and felt the waxy skin covering it, no longer soft and luscious.
John looked around to make sure none of Sherlock's family was around bent down to kiss his nose.
"You said dangerous," John whispered to Sherlock's shell. "You were right."
And with that, he pulled himself away from Sherlock's body. If he didn't then, he might live there, occupying his life with the whisper of his lover.
