Never Got to Say Goodbye - Chapter 3

Sherlock was now in front of John’s grave. He didn't need to look at the gravestone. But he knew.

He just didn't know if you got to say goodbye. Not a grunt of acknowledgement. But a proper goodbye. One you say to someone when you might never see them again.

He was crying. He didn't know where he was, or what time was it. All he knew, was that he was crying.

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He doesn't know how long it has been. Ever since Robert visited him, time didn’t have a meaning. It rushed during cases; when he was deducing. But was always painfully slow when there should have been a ‘fantastic’ or ‘amazing’ or ‘brilliant’’. When there should have been John, a second felt like an eternity.

He heard a voice.

“Sherlock, you need to wake up!”

It was so warm, inviting. Achingly familiar.

“Please Sherlock…” the Voice continued, “it’s been almost a month. Give me a sign you are somewhere in there.”

Sherlock didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything. Nothing had any rhyme or reason anymore.

“Please,” the Voice begged, “For me.”

Suddenly, Sherlock began searching frantically for the source of the voice. It seemed to be everywhere at once. But he searched. He wanted to make the Voice happy.

He then felt like someone was holding his hand. Even though no one was there. The hand gave Sherlock a feeling of comfort. He squeezed the, non-existent, hand.

The Voice was ecstatic at that.

“Thank God!” it said, “You are coming around.”

The voice laughed in relief. Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the laugh. It was a laugh he loved to hear. Made him feel he did something right.

The Voice seemed to like Sherlock smiling even more. But it still asked more of Sherlock.

“Sherlock, can you please open your eyes?” it asked, “Please.”

But my eyes are open.

“For me.”

There it was again. Sherlock felt obligated to do what the Voice asked when it added those two words.

So Sherlock closed his eyes.

He opened them.