Sadly I don't own any of these characters however much I wish I did. This is the first story I've published so please be constructive in your criticism.

One more miracle

I stand at his cold, bleak grave talking, wishing, pleading for a miracle. I lied to Mrs Hudson. I am angry at him, so angry. Without him, I would still be sitting in my tiny room with a limp, a crutch and nothing to write in my blog. He gave me everything back and I wish I could do the same for him. I wish I could tell him what he did for me but I expect he already knew. He knew everything, that brilliant man, and there is not one person in the world who could persuade me otherwise. Not one person could make me believe the lies. I saw the things he could do and no amount of research could tell you the things that he knew about people. I didn't even believe him during that phone call. That damnable phone call, his 'note'. I knew what would happen as soon as I saw him standing on the rooftop. There was not a thing I could do to stop him but I could listen to him, I had to, he said please. He never said please, not really, but I knew, from that one word, everything he was feeling. He was wrong, you know, just about one little thing. When I look, I do observe, I always knew what he was feeling. Maybe that's my super power. People are saying he felt guilty because he was a fraud but I know that's not why he jumped. He jumped for a reason, I just can't work out exactly what it was. It had something to do with Moriarty, I know that much. There are not words enough to describe how much I hate that man. I know he killed himself. There are rumours, speculations that Sherlock killed him but it was suicide, Lestrade confirmed it. Sherlock would never have jumped unless he had no choice, Moriarty took that away from him. Even still, only one thing could have made him do it or, more precisely, three. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and me. We were in danger, we must have been but I don't know why or how. He did care, despite what people thought. He just didn't know how to show it, but I knew. I start to walk away from that desolate spot in the graveyard when a young man rushes up to me.

"Excuse me sir. I was told to give this to you."

He hands over a slightly crumpled scrap of paper and walks away. I try to observe him as Sherlock would have done but all I can glean is that he looks homeless. I look back to the paper and unfold it. It's amazing how seven words can change your life so immediately. The note drops from my fingers as I stand there in shock. It drifts to the ground showing the words for the world to see. "One more miracle, John. Just for you."

Thanks to planets-in-the-sky for the crit - I've updated for you.

Also thanks to Lizzie-Loves-Books4743 for being my first ever reviewer. Much love.