Save Yourself

I sat in the car, staring out in the distance at Abigail and John. He was helping her lay a flower on the ground, near the tombstone marked 'Sherlock Holmes'. I chose not to get too close, for fear I might vomit. I still didn't properly understand everything that had gone on in the time I'd moved out, but a pit in my stomach grew at the realization that day Sherlock had been telling me goodbye.

It seemed, ever since, I'd wake up sick every single night. Both dreams and nightmares seemed to effect me the same, and Abigail... Well, she was coping, to say the least.

Once they joined me in the car, the ride back to the flat seemed to take hours. I didn't want to go, didn't want to step a foot near that place. John's hand rested on my arm - I couldn't possibly imagine how this was impacting him, either.

I sighed as John stepped out of the car. He opened his mouth to say something, before closing it and giving me an expression that I didn't quite understand. Truthfully, I think the entire time John knew something had gone on when we'd went to save Abby, but he knew better than to say anything about it. He waved us into the flat, where Abigail immediately disappeared with Mrs. Hudson. I think this was certainly a time where baked goods were needed.

"Well," John said as we reached upstairs, "I'll just leave you to get any of your things you may have left." He smiled at me awkwardly for a moment, before hugging me and disappearing downstairs. I found my way down the small hallway to Sherlock's bedroom, resting my hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, walking inside.

It was exactly as it had always been. Slightly disheveled, but in a way it was put together - exactly like it's owner. I sat down on the bed, sighing deeply, before walking across the room to retrieve the blanket he'd given me long ago, my hand knocking over an envelope as I did.

"Oh?" I asked, realizing it was the envelope Mycroft had given me to give to Sherlock ages ago. Curious, opened it, nearly crying when I did so.

Inside, tons of information on Derek and Abigail. Tons of research, endless. Where they'd been, how to possibly find them, even how it would be taken care of in the end. The entire time, Sherlock had been going to great lengths to figure this out, even resorting to asking his brother - something I kno he'd like to drop dead before doing.

My mind shattered at the words drop dead[\i]. I blinked the tears away before placing the envelope inside my jacket, retrieving Abigail, then walking the short distance home.

Once I ushered Abigail inside, I sat on the steps of the front porch, sighing deeply, unsure of where to go from here. While I would question to the end of my days what Sherlock might have or could have felt for me, I knew deeply that I loved him. He infuriated me and the rest of the world, yes, but I adored him. Once the sun had finally set, I sighed yet again - for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, forcing myself up. I checked the letterbox before going inside, shuffling through the piles of bills.

As I walked inside, a small note seemed to slip out of the pile of letters, but I immediately recognized the handwriting, unsure of how long it had been in there:

I know what you are thinking and, yes,
you were worth it

-S

My eyes focused on the piece of paper in my hand as the world seemed to fade away.