Hello everyone! Doing some more transfers from dA, so bear with me here. Kind of an old-ish fic, one that I wrote while is Astronomy, bored as all hell. Angsty with a hint of hurt/romance, but one of my favourite Shwatsonlock pieces. Enjoy. :D
RDJ!Sherlock Holmes ain't mine, but damn he's adorable.
My eyes are sore and my lips are red. I don't know how long I've been crying, but it feels like it's not enough. My nose is running, like a leaky faucet that someone forgot to turn all the way off. The room in which I sit is cold; the heat left long ago. I remember a time when I used to enjoy sitting here. But now all it does is bring me pain and sorrow.
It's dark, the curtain shut, the door closed and locked. I don't need anyone disturbing me in this state. All I can seem to think of is you, my dear. My mind wracks with thoughts of you all the time. I feel like your soul is here with me when I think of all the wonderful moments we've had together. Your smile, broad yet controlled, looking as professional as that mustache that sits atop your luscious, warm lips. I miss those voluptuous lips, the kisses that were always tender and truly loving. I miss the breaths you took, gasping for air, moaning in absolute ecstasy as you and I became one…
No, no, no. I need to stop thinking of you. All it does is make my longing for you grow, wishing you were here instead of there. I need you. More than you could ever know. My thoughts are never as clear-cut as they used to be when you were by my side. They've become clouded, hazy, hard to decipher from. Which is a bit of a problem – they're always coming back, asking me to assist them once more. But my mind is not clear. I need work to have these things make sense again, yet this murky state my mind has settled in make it harder and harder to get back to this very thing that makes me who I am and who I was.
Living has become a chore it seems. I want to lie in bed all day and not be forced to move about and do things. But this infernal nanny wakes me and shakes me, telling me I cannot be a vegetable. I could very well be a vegetable. I'd make an excellent carrot. But no, she makes me move, tells me to get over myself and you, and to continue to do my job. I don't want to.
There's no point to it anymore. Without you I feel nothing but sorrow and hurt. Sure, there are moments of pure bliss, like when I think of your beautiful face, smiling and laughing like you haven't a care in the world. Then I remember, and I am forced back into reality. I am crestfallen once again. I want to forget, but you have impacted me to a degree so severe that I am literally nothing with you here with me. I am a pile of human mush – a shell of my former self. I am incomplete. I am nothing; nothing without my sweet, sweet Boswell.
Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go? Why am I in so much pain without you?
These are the questions and cases I solve today. As I sit here and cry, I think "Why?"
I miss you.