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"I love you."
She whispers it into the phone; one hushed confession, one last secret. Her lips brush against the phone and reality crashes into her so hard her breath locks in her throat. I love you. It sits tight long after the line goes dead and the screen blinks off once more, the overwhelming weight of her words crushing her. She finally lets go of the breath and her face crumples into pain; the phone remains close to her, her fingers trembling.
Something is not right. He said he couldn't explain why but he had asked her anyway. Asked her to admit it, and all the pain of those words swallowed her whole. Yes, she cared for him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she learned to move on. Sherlock is her friend and she loves him but that was never to be something she'd admit. There would always be that small part of her that would still love him that way. That was her secret to carry and hers alone. She was fine with that too.
Something is not right and it hasn't been for a long time. Mary died, she looked after Rosie while watching John push everyone away, and Sherlock, of course, Sherlock. Pushing himself towards death with all those drugs, playing his stupid games for his cases.
And yet he'd said it. And he meant it.
What would that mean?
Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Why had he asked her to say such a thing? It was cruel, too cruel. He always used to be cruel to her, but not since Moriarty. Jim. There was so much that didn't make sense. Why now? Why does it hurt? Why... does it seem wrong?
Finally, she puts the phone down, wipes at her eyes and turns her gaze back to her tea. She feels like she's lost something. Something she can't get back. It's gone. Her words sit heavy on her tongue and she swallows thickly, straightening her shoulders. The crushing feeling still remains though. A slow burning humiliation, a hollow feeling in her chest.
Toby clambers up onto the kitchen bench and she reaches for him, burying her fingers in his fur. She's still for a few moments, absently petting him until she finally moves from her spot, returning to her tea.
What would it mean?
She whispers it into the phone; one hushed confession, one last secret. Her lips brush against the phone and reality crashes into her so hard her breath locks in her throat. I love you. It sits tight long after the line goes dead and the screen blinks off once more, the overwhelming weight of her words crushing her. She finally lets go of the breath and her face crumples into pain; the phone remains close to her, her fingers trembling.
Something is not right. He said he couldn't explain why but he had asked her anyway. Asked her to admit it, and all the pain of those words swallowed her whole. Yes, she cared for him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she learned to move on. Sherlock is her friend and she loves him but that was never to be something she'd admit. There would always be that small part of her that would still love him that way. That was her secret to carry and hers alone. She was fine with that too.
Something is not right and it hasn't been for a long time. Mary died, she looked after Rosie while watching John push everyone away, and Sherlock, of course, Sherlock. Pushing himself towards death with all those drugs, playing his stupid games for his cases.
And yet he'd said it. And he meant it.
What would that mean?
Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Why had he asked her to say such a thing? It was cruel, too cruel. He always used to be cruel to her, but not since Moriarty. Jim. There was so much that didn't make sense. Why now? Why does it hurt? Why... does it seem wrong?
Finally, she puts the phone down, wipes at her eyes and turns her gaze back to her tea. She feels like she's lost something. Something she can't get back. It's gone. Her words sit heavy on her tongue and she swallows thickly, straightening her shoulders. The crushing feeling still remains though. A slow burning humiliation, a hollow feeling in her chest.
Toby clambers up onto the kitchen bench and she reaches for him, burying her fingers in his fur. She's still for a few moments, absently petting him until she finally moves from her spot, returning to her tea.
What would it mean?
