Prompting Part XXX
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being
allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
Sherlock felt her arm sliding down the door as all her muscles gave their strength out. Her vision blurred and she felt free - she fainted and was falling heavily. The young soldier reacted immediately and held her before she could hit herself. He looked around and dragged her seemingly dead weight inside. Mrs Hudson stood in her doorframe and waved her hand up the stairs. She was pale and clutched her tissue to her mouth.
The man carried Sherlock back to the flat and laid her gently on the couch. Mrs Hudson was behind him immediately with a glass of water and put smelling salts under Sherlock’s nose. She stirred and opened her eyes. She was still confused when her landlady pushed the glass in her hand and, knowing no mercy, held it up for her to drink.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asked her voice small and worried.
“Yes, Mrs Hudson, thank you.” Sherlock tried to smile up at her but her attempt failed. Mrs Hudson nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The young man sat in the sofa opposite Sherlock and looked at her anxiously.
“I’m afraid I know the reason of sour visit, sir.” Sherlock glanced at him and saw that he was tired and pained. He straightened, smoothed his uniform on his torso and held her look.
“Ma’am, I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Captain John H. Watson, from the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, was killed in action.”
Sherlock took a very, very long breath to calm her nerves, clutched her belly and closed her eyes for a few moments. When she let out the shuddered breath, she looked at him and asked, “When will he be shipped home? When will I receive his belongings?” She needed all her strength to keep her voice even because she knew that if it would crack she would start crying.
“I have no information about that, Ma’am, but I’m sure you’ll be informed soon.” He slowly stood up, fidgeted with his hat and murmured, “I’m really sorry”, then straightened, looked at her, saluted and left.
Moments, then minutes passed by without her realising it but when she recovered, she knew what she needed to do. She walked to her coat, dug in its pocket and took out her phone to dial John’s mother.
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“I know I am the last person you want to see right now, sister, but Lestrade and I ---“ He couldn’t finish his sentence because Sherlock looped her arms around his shoulder and buried her face in his neck.
“Mycroft. John is not coming back. He’s dead.” Her voice was barely audible and trailed off on the last word and her shoulders trembled and she tried to stifle a moan in his clothes. He stroked her hair and held her tight, taken aback by her sudden need to be held.
When she let him go, she looked and Lestrade and saw raw pain and compassion in his eyes. A true friend, that’s what he was, to both John and her.
“John wrote a letter before he left and made me swear that I give it to you when…” he swallowed hard, took a quivery breath and continued “when it was certain he won’t be able to come back to you.” He handed the ruffled letter to her and lowered his eyes to examine his shoes.
Sherlock staggered back and sat on the arm of the sofa as she held it in trembling hands. It was addressed to her in John’s neat handwriting. My Sherlock.
She rubbed at the tears that escaped from her eyes, took a steadying breath, and flipped it over to open it. She usually loved the sound of paper being taken out form an envelope but she couldn’t hear it this time. She stared at the beautiful writing and started reading.
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If you're reading this and my Mama’s sitting there then it looks like I only got a one way ticket over here. I sure wish I could give you one more kissä and hold you tight. I know I said I wanted to come here but that was before I met you, before we decided that we want a child. When I was younger and had nobody to be responsible for, I had big dreams of defending my country, but war was just a game we played when we were kids.
If you're reading this, half way around the world, then I won’t be there to see the birth of our little girl. I hope she looks like you, dark curls, pale skin and sparky, blue eyes, but I hope she fights like me and stands up for the innocent and the weak.
If you're reading this, then there's going to come a day when you'll move on and find someone else and that's okay. I know it is going to be hard and that you do not want to, but Sherlock, love, I want you to be happy and if that makes you happy, please, don’t deem yourself eternal loneliness. Just remember this, I’m in a better place, where soldiers live in peace and angels sing Amazing Grace.
Now I'm laying down my gun, I'm hanging up boots, and I'm up here with God and we're both watching over you.
So lay me down in that open field out on the edge of town, you know, where I proposed to you after the awful dinner we had with your mum and brother. That place is one of my favourite places and it is because that’s where you said you are going to be my wife and that you want to make my life a happier one. God, I loved how bold you were, telling me that my life wasn’t happy before. But now I know that you were right, my life became complete when you entered it. Looking back at it, it looks like it was black and white and colours burst when you came. I know you don’t share my family’s religious beliefs but know that my soul is where my Mama always prayed that it would go.
And if you’re reading this, I’m already home.
I will love you until the end of time, and I die a happy man because I had the chance to know you and the privilege to say that you honoured me with your love. I don’t regret being a soldier because that’s what made it possible for us to meet. If it weren’t for my shoulder, I wouldn’t have been invalided and wouldn’t have needed a flat share. I am grateful to God for making it happen because the years I spent with you were the best years of my life. You made me fall in love with you and made me happy, angry, anxious, nervous, worried and I experienced almost every emotion that is possible for a human to feel. But the only one that lingered is joy - to be able to tell people that I helped you in your work, and then that I became your husband and now to be the father of your daughter. Our daughter.
There is not enough word to express how lucky I am to have had a woman like you by my side. I love you, and I hope you will remember that there was a man once who would have given everything to grow old with you, though he knows that you would be a grumpy old lady.
I love you, I love our daughter and I will be up there to guide you.
With my undying love,
Your John”
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Years passed and it was autumn, leaves started falling, covering the grass in red, yellow and brown. The breeze was chilly and mixed the colours together. A 3-year-old little girl chased them around her mother, who was kneeling next to a grave. Her long, dark curls were in perfect contrast to the light blonde hair of the little girl, but their blue eyes made it clear that they were related. Only expert eyes could see that the little girl’s eyes were not entirely blue - blue mixed with green and brown - and they were exactly like her father's.
The woman brought a bouquet of forget-me-nots and tulips to express her deepest affections, her attachment and her undying love to a man she lost in war. When she placed the bouquet next to the cold stone, she stroked feathery touches to the letters engraved on the marble and touched her lips to them. She stood up, let the cold breeze dry her tears and turned on her heels.
As she was leaving, she turned back and called “Joan!” And the little blonde angel ran to take her hand. She stroked her halo-like hair and squeezed her tiny body to her own legs.
END
((I hope you... well I can't say 'enjoy' because I know I was crying like hell while writing. I hope I didn't disappoint.))
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