This is my second fanfic so constructive criticism would be nice but no hate please. This fanfic is based on the BBC TV show Sherlock.
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Sherlock looked down the barrel of the gun. He knew this would happen. This is how it had to be. His life flashed before his eyes and he smiled at how stereotypical this was. How human. He was surprisingly calm for somebody about to die. He thought of him. The day they met and the day he proposed. He used to remember everything about him but now the memories began to blur together. How long had it really been? He remembered the graveyard and that was only a few days ago....
Sherlock studied the gravestone with his icy blue eyes. It was made of shiny black granite with the name John Watson written in golden letters. John would have wanted it to be like this as it was the style of Sherlock's grave a few years ago. His fingers traced the outline of the gravestone settling on the corner of it. "The day we met, oh, that was just amazing. Not that I will happily admit that to anyone else but you. I thought it was finally the best day of my life even though we had only just met and only spoke briefly. I was not to know we had many more ahead of us. Not enough though." His hand clenched into a fist. "He took you away from me way too early..." Sherlock paused, swallowed and then continued. "He should not have done that. It was his worst idea yet. You know what they say though; revenge is a dish best served cold." He grinned maliciously "Dead cold." Sherlock then gave the gravestone one final pat and strode off, his navy blue, army styled coat billowing after him. He saw his brother impatiently waiting for him, leaning on his umbrella as usual, at the gate and went over to him.
