“Okay, John, I have to get a few things off my chest. Since the first day we meant, I felt something for you. I didn’t know how to explain it. But once you got married, I realised that what I felt is love. I never told you though. I watched your family grow, you became a husband, then a father, you grew more distant from me. Then when you came back, I was thrilled. But your wife had to die for you to move back in. You still had Rosamund, which was good, and I hope nothing of harm comes to her. She’s with Mrs Hudson right now… John, I want you to know, that I love you. It was a mistake for me to wait so long to tell you. I saw you get taken from me, right from my grasp, and I realised I would never want to be without you again. You’re the reason I am still here, you’re the one that made my life worth living. You’re the only person that I would ever consider a relationship with, I really loved-- no, still love you. I regret not being able to tell you all of this before all of this happened... You were perfect. You are perfect… you deserve much than this.”

Sherlock pat John’s grave, a few tears running out of his crystal blue eyes. He quickly wiped them away. “This is our last goodbye, John Watson. I’ll never forget how you made your way into my life, and into my heart...” He sniffed sadly, wiping a few more tears away. “Goodbye, John.” He whispered.

After all of that, Sherlock was practically hysterical. He started walking out of the cemetery when he heard something. It was some sort of banging, along with screaming. Chills sent through Sherlock’s spine. He looked around, who was screaming? It sounded close, but muffled.

“Help! Help!” A voice said, “Help! Please! Is anybody out there?!”

“J-John?” Sherlock must’ve been going crazy. It sounded like John was yelling for his help. Shaking his head, Sherlock started walking away, brushing it off to just his mind.

“Help! Please! I-I don’t…” The person started hyperventilating. “Not-- a lot-- of…” It stopped again, a heavy but still muffled breathing going on. “Air!” Finished the person.

Sherlock looked around, then back at John’s grave. “John?” He asked loudly.

“Sherlock!” John responded. “I’m in some sort of box-- it’s so tight. I’m in a tuxedo, I-I think I was buried or something!”

“You were!” Sherlock responded. “Oh, please tell me this isn’t just my mind.”

“It’s not-- I’m here-- call…” John started hyperventilating a lot louder. There was such thick oxygen in the coffin. “Call the police, please. I’m scared.”

Without any hesitation, Sherlock took out his phone and called the police. “Did you hear my speech?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I-I did. Are you calling the police?!”

“Yes, John, calm down. I’m calling the police.”

A dispatcher answered, and before they could say anything, Sherlock quickly explained what was happening and where they were. He hung up and started digging, “John! Are you still there?!”

“I’m…” John closed his eyes. There was so little oxygen. “Might… die… again?”

“Stay alive!”

“I-I might not be able to…” John tried calming himself.

Sherlock continued to dig. The police showed up and they started digging with shovels. When they opened the coffin, John was laying there, still alive. His fingers were bruised with scratches that he got when he tried scratching out.

“John!” Sherlock took John out of the coffin and laid him on the ground. Sherlock crawled over John and connected their lips, starting to give him air.

John’s eyes opened slowly. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulled him down, kissing him deeply.

For a moment, Sherlock was shocked. He sat up with John, who dived into his arms. It felt so nice to hold John after so long of thinking he was dead.

“I love you,” John whispered.

“I love you, too.” Sherlock responded.