The cemetery was an incredibly beautiful and lonely place. John didn’t know why the cemetery was beautiful, for it wasn’t uplifting, nor did it alleviate the gutful ache he carried within. It was however, the final resting place of his late best friend; the last place on Earth that John could speak to Sherlock and be certain his friend was near enough to hear him. And John, consumed with sadness, could unquestionably recognize the beauty in that.

It wasn’t Sherlock’s death alone that made those quiet visits so difficult. No, it was the Guilt. Or perhaps guilt was really a word for Fear. And perhaps that fear was truly propelled by Love.

John would stand before Sherlock’s headstone and catch his head in his hands, the errors f his ways illuminated with painful brilliancy. He should have noticed. He should have seen. He should have caught the moments when Sherlock withdrew into himself with shadowed eyes; a man losing his way in the world. He should have been synchronized with Sherlock, seen the signs of unhappiness, and raised all Hell to save him. Too late.

And oh, how that burned John to the core.

He would think of Sherlock and wish that the unfathomable man had allowed himself to make mistakes, to laugh, to enjoy, to eat, to love, to carry on.

He wanted Sherlock to be exactly who he was, unforgivably, unquenchably so. John wanted Sherlock to have trusted him more than a phone call on a rooftop, to have occasionally forgotten his work and let the raindrops fall where they would, to have known that he was loved so very much it hurt.

There John would stand, in the shade that sunlight never reached, knowing some things could not be changed, and that there were some situations where apologies held no bearings. If twists of fate brought people together, dually, “everything happens for a reason” could tear them apart. He could say that he didn’t care, that he’d moved forward, moved on. But he would say this with tears in his eyes because there was love, love that overflowed from John’s shaky heart onto that glistening headstone.

But one heart was missing.