No words existed to adequately describe the exquisiteness of her being. She was beauty personified … in spirit and form.
He stood silently over her, mesmerized.
This would be the last time he watched her sleep. These were the last few moments of their life together, the last time he could claim her as his partner, the last time possibly as a friend …
Over the many months, watching her sleep became an act of meditation. She calmed the storm within; protecting him from the darkness he had previously faced alone. … Soft rhythmic breathing … He was not alone … He was not alone ….
For her he kept vigil; stood guard as she slept. He was her servant, her knight, keeping her safe from the horrors of the day that crept towards her in the greying night.
He wondered why she permitted his intrusion. No complaints or requests to go away or to stop were ever registered; no locked door, no mention of it at all.
She had awakened on several occasions, sometimes whispering his name and asking him how he was before drifting off to sleep again. He thinks she must have understood. She always understood. Will she understand why he is leaving ….
He will walk out the door tonight and perhaps never see her again. She will be better off without him. He will be very much the worse without her.
"Good-bye, Watson" his whisper lingered in the dark as his footsteps meted his departure. The closing of the door behind him brought a stilled quiet to the room.
"Good-bye, Sherlock," she murmured into the emptiness that now crept towards her.