You watched as he paced back and forth in front of his chair.
You could clearly see the exhaustion in his eyes and how he struggled to keep his eyes open.
He mumbled something incoherent before he walked to the door and put on his coat and scarf then rushed downstairs as you trailed behind him.
"I'll be back later Mrs.Hudson."
He stepped outside into the cold air, instantly thinking of all the memories made in the cold with each other.
"She always loved the cold weather," he whispered as tears formed in his eyes.
"Sherlock," you whispered, your heart breaking at seeing him in this state.
He didn't even flinch or acknowledge you as you spoke and continued walking at a rather quick pace, wanting to get to his desired location quickly.
You quickly rushed to catch up with him, losing him every once in a while but then finding him again.
He finally slowed down as he made it to his designation, eyes filling with more hurt.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it before crouching down to sit on the cold ground that held so much meaning to him.
"Sherlock, I told you to stop smoking." you said as you crouched down to sit next to him.
He simply stared forward at the thing he hated oh so much.
He had so much love for this spot yet he also had hate for it was his place of despair.
"Sherlock, I love you." you whispered as you placed your hand atop of his.
Or at least you tried to.
You wanted so desperately to hug him, to tell him everything was okay and that you were here for him.
In a sense you were, but not physically.
You were but a fragment of Sherlock's life that he refused to let go of.
And you knew he wouldn't let go of you.
You were forced to watch him go through each day mourning you and wishing you were there with him.
You watched in hopes that he would forget you. That he would be happy again.
Maybe he could even find someone.
As much as the thought of someone else in his arms pained you, his happiness came first.
It always did, because you loved him.
You still do.
"I hate seeing you like this Sherlock.." you whispered as tears of your own fell.
You remembered what it felt like, mourning the loss of someone you love.
You'd gone through it very similarly with Sherlock with thoses two years he was 'dead'.
Oh how you wish it was all some scheme like Sherlock's was.
How you wished you could come back to tell him it was all a trick, and that you were still here.
But you weren't.
You were actually gone.
And you both knew that.
He closed his eyes as the first few tears fell and he stood up aburbtly, putting his cigarette out the headstone next to yours.
He'd never tarnish the headstone that honored you so.
"Let me go.." you pleaded, knowing he couldn't hear you but wishing he could.
Sherlock's eyes opened quickly, eyes quickly looking at the spot where he swore he heard your name.
He shook his head dismissivley, knowing this wasn't the first time this happened and knowing it wouldn't be the last.
He turned around and slowly began exiting the cemetery but stopped at the gates, eyes glancing back to your headstone once more.
"I'll never let you go."
