The sound of heavy rain on pavement echoed around the dimly lit street…Sherlock couldn’t think of anything to say. All those years, the thousands of times he turned this moment over in his head, and he couldn’t think of the words that would make the hurt in John’s eyes fade away.
”…it was raining the last time I saw you…” he settled on, voice quiet and searching. John’s lips pressed together, flashing eyes signaling that he’d said the wrong thing.
”That’s all you have to say?” John whispered, a dangerous edge to his voice. “It was raining the last time I saw you?” His left hand clenched at his side, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
”It was raining the last time I saw you, Sherl-” he cut himself off, the sound of the dead man’s name too hard to stomach. Another long moment passed in silence before John was able to speak again. “It started raining after you jumped…” he said, voice quiet. “Your blood mixed with the water…it started running into the gutter…” his jaw clenched, but still he didn’t look away. “It was raining the day you died.”
”I’m not dead…”
”I buried you, Sherlock!” he grit out, voice strained. “It was raining then too…I remember because the coffin was wet, and there were black umbrellas, and they lowered you into a bloody puddle-” his voice choked off, and he turned his head away, lips pressed firmly together once more.
Sherlock stayed where he was, waiting for John to continue, wanting to take what was doled out, to take the punishment in order to obtain absolution…except John just stood there, as if he was unsure whether to stay or turn back the way he’d come…the detective’s chest tightened unbearably. He couldn’t lose John, not now.
”John, I…I’m sorry…I had to…I can explain…please…let me explain…” his quiet words were laced with pain, with the need for John to listen. “Moriarty…he told me…I had to jump…I couldn’t…” Sherlock swallowed when John still didn’t look at him. “…please…” the last word came out as a whisper. “Let me explain…”
John’s gaze moved back to Sherlock at the quiet plea, eyes searching the detective’s worn face, raw emotion showing around the edges of his eyes. The silence between them seemed to stretch on for an eternity before John finally spoke again.
”Alright…” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from Sherlock. He didn’t move from his spot, not caring in that moment that they were both soaked to the bone. “Go ahead…explain…”
Made and written for johnlockchallanges for the prompt: thunderstorm. Click for a much larger size ^_^