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Unfinished Business

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The grave in front of him read:  

             John Watson 

    Hero, Friend, Brother  

         Loyal to the end 

Believed in Sherlock Holmes  


John Watson... That name... Wait that was him. He is John Watson or rather was John Watson. It was all coming back now.  


He remembers writing a note asking for his grave stone to say Believed in Sherlock Holmes before ending everything, but who had put the rest on there? Mycroft? Greg? Harry? 


What was he doing still here? Standing in front of said stone? He was dead, shouldn’t he be either upstairs with wings or downstairs in the fires?  


He looked around him at the empty cemetery. Where was Sherlock? He really thought Sherlock would be waiting for him... Guess that was a fool’s thought. Sherlock had jumped just over a year ago.  

John had made it one year before he couldn’t handle the pain any longer.   


It was the eve of that day that he had decided, he was done. He knew Mycroft was watching his every move and was able to impeded his other attempts to end the hurt. But this time he wouldn’t even know until it was done.  


Now he was here in the afterlife with the same problem as when he was alive. No Sherlock.  

Why was he stuck here? Unfinished business? Isn’t that what people said about ghosts? Is that why Sherlock wasn’t there? Was his business finished?  


Alright. How does one go about figuring out what his unfinished business is? Maybe he should start by checking on everyone he knew and see if that triggered anything.  


Frist Stop Harry.  


It wasn’t hard to find Harry. He just thought of her and then appeared at her side.  

Did it work that way for everyone? He would have to try after this.  


Harry was right where John thought she would be, at a bar. Did she read the note he left her? Did she understand why he did it? Would she be ok? Was she the unfinished business?  

He stood watching her for a few moments and wondered if she felt he was there. She looked okay, she wasn’t even drinking anything but water, sitting a table in the front. She seemed to be waiting for someone. He wondered who?  


He didn’t have to wait long before in walked Clara. Harry smiled happy smile at the sight.  


“Hey love.” Clara placed a kiss on Harry’s cheek before sitting down next to her. “How are you holding up with everything?”  


“I am doing better than I thought I would. He was so unhappy at the end, I just hope he found peace, that he found him.”  


“Me too.” Clara replied. “I’m glad you called me. I have been wanting to reach out for a while. I miss you and I want to come home.”  


“Yes. Always yes.” Harry had answered before Clara had even finished. They reached for each other, hugging tightly before Clara whispered “Let’s go home.”  

Quickly they stood and left holding hands. He watched them go, it brought lightness to his heart. So, he knew that Harry was not his unfinished work. She was going to be okay. She had Clara now. He was happy for them both.  


Who was next Greg? Could he be the one?  

 He thought of Greg and ended up in his office at the Met. Greg was on the phone. He took a seat across from him, where he always sat when they came to Greg’s office. Sherlock would always pace or stand and he use to sit in this chair and watch Sherlock’s mind work.  

How he missed that. He missed watching him be brilliant and clever... He missed Sherlock so much...  


“Yes okay, but why didn’t you tell him?”  


He stepped out of his thoughts and back to Greg on the phone. Who was he talking too? Or about?  


“I still don’t understand how you didn’t see it coming? You see everything. When does he get back? Have you told him? Let me know if I need to be there. I have to go pick up Molly shortly for our date tonight. Thank you, I am pretty happy about it. She is a special person. Alright talk soon.”  


With that Greg had hung up and sat back in his chair.  


“I am happy for you Greg. I am glad you have found someone like Molly. I hope you are both very happy.” John felt lightness is his heart again this time for Greg. He knew Greg couldn’t hear him, but he wanted to say it out loud anyways. Greg wasn’t his unfinished business either.  


“Goodbye Greg. Follow your happy.” With that John walked out of the office, leaving Greg smiling at his desk.  

Who was left? Sarah?  No,  she wouldn’t be it. Molly was happy with Greg, so it wouldn’t be her either.  

It  really wouldn’t be Mycroft. They had nothing to do with each other even before Sherlock jumped. Maybe it was  Mrs.  Hudson? She was all that was left.  


He thought of Mrs. Hudson all alone at Baker Street. It must be so quiet there now. Not that he had made much noise towards the end. Barely moving from his chair except to eat a little and sometimes sleep in Sherlock’s bed.  He hoped she wasn’t the one to find his body. He hadn’t thought of that, after writing all of his notes to everyone, he had just been ready. It had taking lots of planning.  


He had written his notes out over the span of two weeks, so Mycroft wouldn’t get suspicious and check up on him. He had then printed them out slowly over time and placed them in envelopes with each person's name. In the end, he even wrote one to Mycroft.  


He pictured Mrs. Hudson in his mind and appeared by her side. She was in her flat making tea and placing biscuits on a tray. So very Mrs. Hudson, but who was she doing it for? There was no one in her flat...  

Then he heard the footsteps above his head. Who was upstairs? Mycroft? Maybe some of Mycroft’s goons were cleaning out the flat. He guessed that had to happen, now that they both were gone, but could he at least be gone a week first before they cleaned out his life.  


He decided to go up and see what they were doing with everything. Would Mycroft keep Sherlock’s things? Or would their whole flat just be donated or worse just thrown out like they had never existed... 

He climbed the seventeens steps to the green door at the top as he reached the last couple of steps, he found it hard to move any farther.   


Here he stood just outside of the flat that he didn’t think he would see the inside of again. He was frozen to the steps, when Mrs. Hudson passed through him carrying the tray in to the flat.  

As she opened the door, he could see Mycroft sitting in Sherlock’s chair waiting for her. He followed her in, looking about the room, everything seemed in place.  


The last time he was in this room ran through his mind. A bit not good.  


“Ah Mrs. Hudson. So kind of you to bring tea. He should be here any moment. I do believe you are not going to want to be here when he arrives. He will not be happy, once I have told him the news.”  


“Mycroft, you are a heartless man for not telling him sooner.” Mrs. Hudson scolded.  


He wondered who they were talking about. Who didn’t really know he was dead? Who was Mycroft about to tell? Who would be coming here anyways?  


NO...Noooooo! Just no. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be alive...... John fell to his knees there in the door way. He didn’t notice Mrs. Hudson leave or another pair of footsteps coming up the stairs until... 


“Mycroft?” Came the deep baritone voice behind him.  “How kind of you to be waiting for me here. I was hoping for a quiet sort of reunion with John alone, but as he is not here anyways. I guess you will do for my home coming. Is he at the clinic then?” Sherlock moved in to the room removing his coat. It wasn’t his normal coat. This one was a shorter heavy coat one wears in places with lots of snow.  


John slowly took in the sight of Sherlock. He looked tired and his hair was shorter, there was cuts and bruises on his face from someone's fist. Oh god but he was alive. John felt like he had died all over again. He closed his eyes as Mycroft began to speak, so he didn’t have to see Sherlock’s reaction.  


“Brother dear, I didn’t tell you before as you had a mission to complete and I couldn’t reach you. But I am afraid that the good doctor is no longer with us. He pasted three days ago and we buried him yesterday.”  


There was a thud in front of John. He opened his eyes to see Sherlock on his knees, head in his hands. His body seemed to shake with the sobs, John could hear coming from him.  

John felt anger surge through him. How dare Mycroft tell him like this! How dare Mycroft not tell John that Sherlock was alive and how dare he sit in Sherlock’s chair acting like none of this bothered him.  


Suddenly John was on his feet, yelling at Mycroft to get out. He knew Mycroft couldn’t hear him, but he did notice him flinch slightly. Sherlock raised his head and looked to where John stood yelling.  

Could Sherlock hear him? Sense him maybe?  


He took a few steps towards Sherlock. “Sherlock?” Hope filled his voice.  


Sherlock turned back to Mycroft, his voice filled with anger. “Why didn’t you stop him? You were suppose to watch out him, while I took care of Moriarty’s web. It was the only thing I asked of you. To make sure the one thing I loved on this earth was safe, while I removed the threats abroad.”  


The one thing he loved on this earth... John stopped moving, if he was alive, his heart would have stopped beating as well. 


“I did stop him the first three times, he tried.” Mycroft started. “But then he caught on that I was watching.  


John thought of those three times. Mycroft bursting in to the flat and removing his gun the first time. The second time he removed the blade and bandaged John’s wrists. The third time, it was the drugs.  

He should have known there was a reason that Mycroft was still keeping tabs on him.  


“The final time, he hid it so well, I didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late. He had even written notes out to everyone including me. But he had already taken the poison. I still haven’t figured out how he got his hands on it.” Mycroft said getting quieter at the end.  


“It was mine.” Sherlock whispered. “I had some hidden for an experiment. He must have found it.”  


John moved to stand next to Sherlock, placing a hand on his shoulder. He wondered if Sherlock could feel him. Sherlock had to be his unfinished business. Sherlock loved John. If only John had known Sherlock was alive. He would have waited for him. But he thought Sherlock was dead, so he died to be with him.  

Now they were still parted. Maybe their love was not to be...  


“You said he left notes?”  


“Yes. He left one to Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Harry and I. Mine was mostly about his funeral and grave stone wording. You are of course welcome to the note if you wish.” Mycroft pulled the envelope from his breast pocket as he stood. He handed it to Sherlock, who was still kneeling on the floor.  


“I am sorry, brother mine, that I could not save him. Had I known sooner that you were returning I would have told him.” Mycroft lightly touched Sherlock’s shoulder before crossing to the door and leaving.  


John watched him go before turning back to Sherlock. “I wouldn’t have listened to him. I had everything planned. I would have thought he was lying again to stop me a fourth time.” 


Sherlock was staring at the envelope in his hand. He opened it slowly as he moved to sit in his chair. 

John moved to sit across from him in his comfy red chair. He already missed this chair. 




I wasn’t going to leave you a note as I have nothing really to say to you.  

But someone needs to handle my  funeral  besides Harry and since my parents are already gone 

that leaves no one else. I ask to be buried next to him in the cemetery.  

Don’t say who. You know who I am talking about. I am not asking for much from you.  

Just something simple with my name.  

Also,  I want the words “Believed i n  Sherlock Holmes” written on there as well.  


John knew where in the letter, Sherlock had reached, because his hands started to shake and tears ran down his face.  


He saved my life, but in the end, I couldn’t save him or myself.  So,  please watch over Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly and Harry. I have decided  that I  can’t live without him. I can’t continue without only person who made me feel alive and held my heart.  

Thank you for taking care of the details.  


John Watson 


The letter fell from Sherlock’s hands and landed on the floor between them as he covered his face again.  


“John, my beautiful John. I am so sorry. I never should have left you.” Sherlock spoke in to his hands before moving them from his face and looking up at John.  


John stared back, wondering if Sherlock could see him or was just looking at an empty chair. He took in the dark circles under Sherlock’s eyes. The thinness of his body as the clothes he wore seem to hang on him. His hands were battered as well, one looked like it had been broken, not to long ago.   


“This is all my fault. Everything I did for the past year was for nothing. You died, not know what you meant to me. Not knowing you were my conductor of light, the only person I will ever love.” Sherlock’s voice broke at the last part.  


“I am right here, Sherlock. Can you feel me? -- I love you too.” John reached a hand out towards Sherlock.  


Sherlock stood and walked quickly back to his room. John also stood to follow him, but then stopped not sure if he should. Just because Sherlock couldn’t see him, didn’t mean he was free to follow him everywhere. He sat back down and waited.  


There was some noise coming from the room. Sherlock seemed to be looking for something. After things got quiet, John got curious and walked back to Sherlock’s room. He paused at the door for a moment, realizing he had spent his last moments alive in this room, before curling up on Sherlock’s bed and letting the poison take him.  


He pushed the door open to find Sherlock sitting on the floor with a needle buried in his arm.  


“Oh god! No, no, no Sherlock!” John flew to Sherlock, dropping next to him, trying to grab the needle, but he couldn’t. “How much did you take?! Sherlock?! How much?!”  


“John?” Sherlock murmured.  “is that you? Are you here to take me?”  


“Oh god. Sherlock can you hear me?” John whispered.  


“Yes.” Sherlock lifted his head and looked straight in to John’s eyes. “My beautiful John, How I have missed you.”  


Tears started running down John’s cheeks. “I missed you too, love. We lost so much time... But you shouldn’t do this...” 


“You did.”  


“Because I thought you were dead. I’m going to see if I can get Mr. Hudson's attention, so she call 999.” John stood quickly, but Sherlock shook his head.  


“No, this is my choice, John. Like you, I can’t live in a world without you in it. Had I known you felt this way before I jumped, I would never have left you in the dark. I thought you would grieve a short time as I only planned to be gone a few months. I am sorry I made you wait so long.”  


 “Oh, Sherlock.” John knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his cheek and wiped the tears away that were falling. “I love you.”  


“I love you too. Stay with me” 


“Until the end, my love.”  






Two days later, they stood hand in hand next to matching grave stones.  


“Just the two of us against the rest of the world forever.” Sherlock stated, looking down at John.   


“Always, my love.” John leaned up, placing a kiss on Sherlock’s lips.  


With that they turned and walked across the cemetery, slowly fading as they went, never letting go of the others hand.  


The End.