blue and smoke

There was a time when

I laid low,

taking curious peeks at you 

from afar.

There was nothing you did

that didn't involve 

a malicious glint in your eye

or a brilliant smile.

You kept me on my feet,

helping me run out my limp,

run out my preconceived fears.

You gave me something no one else could-

a sense of importance

a sense of being wanted

Amidst the heart-pounding gun shots

and mourning screams for friends 

and mothers,

they screamed for me,

for my assistance.

Something I was trained to do.

But you.

You screamed for me unlike anyone who has

You screamed for me before I met you.

But did I respond?

Not fast enough.

You screamed for my love

You screamed for my hand

clasped in yours.

You pleaded for the solidity

of my presence

when I was falling apart


All you needed was me. 

But how did I possibly

miss that?

It was there.

It was so obvious.

How did I not understand 

that your need for me

was as clear as your eyes were crystals,

curls as black as coal.

As black as your heart.

The heart I could've saved.

You screamed my name

in your head,

You whispered my name 

on the roof.

You screamed.

You begged for me to save you

As you whispered in tears on the roof.

And still, I didn't respond.

You scarf, my dear,

lays in a crumpled heap

collecting dust and memories

among your books

and stale cigarettes.

Your scent still lingers

on that damned rag of cloth

that forbids me to ever erase you from my memory.


Dried ink, musty smoke, enraged tears.

The scarf was as blue as your eyes

luminescent with mourning and longing.

You screamed as you let your last words

fall, "goodbye, john."

You screamed as you let yourself fall

And I responded at last,

but not fast enough. 

 ---A letter from John to Sherlock after The Fall---


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