His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 41: Grief

(Your POV)

DENIAL

"You should come to the funeral."

"No."

"(Y/n)..."

"He's not DEAD, John!" I start to cry again. The fifth time since this morning. "He can't be."

John sighs and makes his way over to the sofa to sit next to me. I try to ignore his all-black outfit, pretending I do not know what it is for. "(Y/n), please. It's been two weeks. I-" he chokes as he tries to hold back tears but fails. "I know it's hard. I do. But you were the person Sherlock loved most in the entire world. You should be there. Say a few words."

He takes my hand in his and gives me an encouraging look. I feel helpless. "Then why did he jump?"

His look tells me he has no answer.

ANGER

I wipe the spit off my face and throw the pregnancy test across the room, screaming in anger. "DAMN IT!"

John comes rushing down the stairs and barges in without sparing a moment for a knock. "Hey-"

"Ugh, can't I get a little PRIVACY!" I shove him backwards and he stumbles, looking at me in shock. "Geez!"

"(Y/n)..." he begins to say something but then something catches his eye and he looks down at the ground. Oh shit. The pregnancy test. He bends down and picks it up slowly, disbelief riddling his features. He looks about ready to cry, but I've already beat him to it. "You're pregnant."

It's not a question but a statement. A fact. And we both know the consequences.

"Yes." Defeated, I close the toilet lid and sit down, my head in my hands.

"How... how far along are you?" John's voice shakes.

"I- I'm not sure. Six weeks?"

"Jesus. Okay. Okay Hey." He kneels down in front of me. "It's okay. We're going to figure this out."

Anger wells in me again. "Piss off, John."

BARGAINING

"And how have you been doing with your gratitude journal?"

My therapist stares across from me with kind eyes.

I take a deep breath. "Well... I've been writing three things a day. Like you said. And I've been going to all my doctor's appointments. Like you said. So."

She scribbles something down. "And how are you feeling? About the baby?"

I touch my stomach gingerly, smiling to myself. "I feel like... I feel like this might all work out. It has to."

---

I walk into the flat, greeted by John and his familiar smile.

"Hey, (Y/n). How was therapy?" He motions for me to come and sit next to him on the sofa, scooting over to make room.

"It was good..." I notice a box sitting next to him as I sit down. "What's this?"

He blushes. "Well uh... I was going to give this to you and..." he reads my face carefully before saying his name, "Sherlock... but, well, I figured since you're doing a little better now you might be able to handle it."

He removes the lid of the box and carefully pulls out a photo album, made up beautifully. My eyes widen in wonder. "John..."

"I know, I know, it's cheesy. But, well, just... here." He shoves it into my arms.

I touch the cover gently, careful to wipe my tears quickly lest they fall onto the pages.

I open the album and the memories start flooding back immediately. Everything that was good and happy about my relationship with Sherlock was right here in my hands. Christmas. My birthday. The night we went to the ball. The night we fell asleep by the fireplace. Sherlock trying to teach me how to play the violin. Us working on a case together. And so, so many more. All captured when we were too enamored with each other to notice our picture being taken.

"John... I don't know what to say." I fling myself onto John and give him the biggest hug I could muster and planted a sincere kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

DEPRESSION

"I'm not keeping it."

"(Y/n), please,"

"I'm not."

"Just think about it." John begs earnestly. "Don't make this decision out of sadness or grief. That baby could be your biggest blessing."

"There's no point." I sit wrapped up in a blanket, eyes puffy, staring at the fireplace blankly. "I feel nothing anymore."

"Have you talked to your therapist about it?"

"There's no point."

"Then talk to me."

My eyes flick over to him where he sits, but I know my gaze is empty. "There's. No. Point."

He groans in frustration, standing quickly. "Damn it, (Y/n)! You're not the only one who lost him! We are all grieving and you don't get to just sit there and act like you're alone!" Tears spill down his cheeks. "I loved him! And I love you too! Stop saying you have nothing to live for because I can't..." he chokes, "I can't lose you too."

ACCEPTANCE

"John! You ready to go?" I call up the stairs, putting on my coat and grabbing my camellia bouquet.

"Coming, coming," he comes trotting down, his signature tight-lipped smile on his face. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The car ride was shorter than I expected. I sat next to John the whole time, my hand in his for emotional support. We arrived at the cemetery and I exited the car carefully, still adjusting to my new size. I was only 4 months along, but it was definitely showing.

I thought for a moment and then turned to John. "Can I actually... go alone?"

He nodded understandingly. He had taken his time at Sherlock's grave weeks ago. "Of course. I'll be right here." He gave my hand a squeeze and I smile at him as I walk off in search of the right stone.

It doesn't take me long. The shiniest one in the whole cemetery, with a large bouquet of flowers. Huh. His parents must have visited recently. I had still yet to meet them. I didn't know how to break the news to them that a piece of their son would still go on living. I would tell them when the time was right.

I set my flowers down by the grave, shifting awkwardly. "I uh, I don't know what to say..."

I take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant, for starters. It's a boy. You probably knew before... Well, I like to think you didn't because you jumped anyways." My laugh is dry. "Ahem. Anyways, I... I wanted to say thank you. For everything. You were..." my voice cracks. Oh, no you don't. Pull it together. "Are. The best thing that ever happened to me. You were my whole world."

A single tear rolls down my cheek. "You are the most loving, enigmatic man I have ever had the good fortune to meet. You changed my life. And I'm grateful. You made me who I am today. I just... I just keep wishing you were here. Not dead. That you would get to see your son when he's born. That you would come home. With me..." Ilook down. I can't bear the sight of his grave any longer.

"Please come home," I sob. "I love you."

"I love you, too."