Johnlock One-shots

202.A Loyal Friendship

After Sherlock jumped from St Bart's, everything in John's life started to go downhill. It was falling as fast as Sherlock's body did, just waiting to hit the floor and crash.

It wasn't easy living anymore. John got trapped in the arms of depression, everything that happened just tore more into his heart.

But sometimes things were good. Times he could spend with Sherlock, well, his grave. John would visit him everyday, he would speak for hours, wishing Sherlock would respond.

It wasn't all good at Sherlock's grave though. Fans, teenagers, pranksters, whoever it was, they spoke up about how angry they were about Sherlock's death. Every night, someone would go to the grave and mess it up. They'd rip grass out of the ground, tear apart flowers, leave mean notes or graffiti, once someone even knocked over the tombstone.

John would always come back and fix it up. It didn't matter how much work needed to be done, he would fix it. Replant flowers, put in fake grass, erase the graffiti, he did anything to keep Sherlock's grave standing strong.

It was one of those days today. This was the two year anniversary of when Sherlock died. John had his kit with him, walking up to the gravestone. He sat down and opened up the kit, which he called the ‘Sherlock kit’ for obvious reasons.

The flowers John had planted yesterday were stomped on and there were a few sticky notes stuck onto the grave. After so long of 'we are happy you're dead!’ and 'never come back-- oh wait, you can't!’ John said he would stop reading what people left behind, but he was curious about these notes. They said:

'You’re a detective idiot, the love of your life watched you die’

'You let your crush hear your last words’

'You left him all alone in 221B Baker Street’

John crumbled up the rest of them, tears rolling down his cheeks. Okay, yes, he loved Sherlock. But what was he supposed to do about it now? John cried more and closed his eyes, setting his hand on the top of Sherlock’s grave and sobbing. “I-I loved you so m-much, Sh-Sherlock, I loved you... I wish I could say  that to your face…”

"You can if you look up." Someone said and he jumped back when he felt the warm and gentle hand of another human rest on top of his. He wiped away his tears and looked up, then froze.

Sherlock was there. His curly hair, dramatic coat, gorgeous coloured eyes, perfect smile, adorable nose and his sharp, sexy cheekbones.

As John realised it was him, he started crying more. John took Sherlock's hand and stood up, moving around the grave to the back of it where his friend was, burying his face against the other’s neck.

“I loved you too.” Sherlock said, his voice a whisper as he wrapped his arms around John's back and hugged him.

“Do you still love me?” John asked, moving a little closer.

“More than I could ever express, John.” Sherlock whispered, resting his chin on the top of John’s head and rubbing his back. “Do you still love me?”

John nodded, pulling his head away from Sherlock's neck so he could connect their lips. Sherlock tilted his head and kissed John back, closing his eyes.