Dark Secrets (Sherlock x Reader)

Without Him

The cold wind whipped around you as you stood silently in the grass. Your eyes were glued to the black headstone and your hands were clutching a small bouquet of flowers.

The funeral had ended several hours ago and most people had left and gone home, but not you. You remained at the graveyard and stayed there even when all the workers resigned for the day. You couldn't bring yourself to move.

The blue scarf around your neck kept you warm as the sun began to set and the breeze grew colder. You were still holding onto the flowers, not ready to put them down and say goodbye yet.

When Sherlock jumped, Moriarty had let you go. Once his body had hit the pavement, the armed men around you had untied you and left, leaving you alone in the abandoned building with nothing but your aching heart.

It took you hours to gather yourself and walk home. You were greeted by Mrs Hudson, who hadn't yet heard the news. She was elated to see you. She embraced you tightly and kept saying how hard it had been for everyone without you. She was so glad to see you alive and reached for the phone to call Sherlock since he wasn't home. He never answered. He couldn't.

A few days later, you were all gathered at the funeral. Everyone was glad to have you back but it was bittersweet. It felt as though Sherlock's life was traded for yours. John certainly felt that way.

He hadn't spoken a word to you since you returned. He didn't stop by 221B once, he didn't even spare you a glance at the burial. He blamed you for the loss of his best friend even though no one knew what had really gone down on top of that roof.

The others felt sorry for you. They didn't know what you had been through in the three months you were gone as you refused to ever mention it. In fact, you had stopped speaking entirely. They knew you were grieving. They knew how much you loved Sherlock.

That day, you spent the night at the graveyard, sitting against his headstone and crying silent tears. You didn't go home until the sun rose above the trees and a morning drizzle awakened you from a stiff and restless slumber.

You trudged back to 221B, the scarf tightly wrapped around you. It still smelled like him despite it having been a few days since he last wore it. You buried your face in it, treasuring every last bit of him before you no longer could.

Mrs Hudson was waiting for you as you entered the flat. You hung up your coat but kept on the scarf as you settled in Sherlock's vacant chair, curling up into a ball.

''You didn't come home last night, dear. I was worried,'' she spoke softly.

You said nothing.

''Greg called,'' she mentioned. ''He was wondering if it was okay for him to come over? He felt you might like some company. He has a case if you're interested. It might take your mind off of things, get you back into your old ways from before –'' she cut herself off.

''Thank you, Mrs Hudson,'' you croaked.

She gave you a surprised but solemn look at finally hearing your voice. She nodded slowly before turning away and exiting the flat, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As soon as the door shut, you hid your head in between your knees and bawled. Loud, gross sobs wrecked your body as your lungs gasped and struggled for air. Your entire body was trembling and your chest was aching.

You missed him. You missed him unlike anything you ever had before.

He was your first true love, the first man you ever shared such a close connection with. He understood you, loved you, cared for you. Now he was gone.

You couldn't get the image out of your head. Every time you shut your eyes, you'd see him falling again. The same scene over and over. His arms spread as he tumbled forward. The smack of his body as it hit the concrete. The shouting and panic of bystanders rushing to the scene.