Red Rivers

Blood spattered the wall
Sparkling wet rivulets on the floor

Rushing
Sliding
Gushing

Down the dip in the tiling
Swallowed by the thirsty drain

Whirring
Buzzing
Squelching

Through sinew and bone
As the autopsy resumes

Haunted

You haunt my dreams

In the night I swear I hear you

Familiar footsteps

Spiced cologne

Soft breathing

Gentle touches

Figments of my imagination

My subconscious understands

You should not be gone

The familiar dip in the bed

Your side is always vacant

But on quiet nights

Every night

I swear I feel you

Pressed against me

Holding me close

Butterfly kisses to my neck

Whispered words

Soft

Reassuring

To stop my tears

Stop the nightmares

Your leap replaying on loop

I dare not open my eyes

My mind no longer sane

But morning always comes

And my eyes must open against my will

I am always alone

Forever alone

I would go with you

To you

Wherever you are

Wherever we go

My best method

My surest method

My quickest method

My service arm

Is missing

Other methods

Less messy methods

Are open to me

But none as fitting as the gun

I came to Baker Street

And was reborn by a bullet

I should leave by one

But until I find it

My service arm

The sweet midnight torture

Must be enough

Author's Note: Fan poem in the POV of the BBC's Sherlock version of Dr. John Watson, set after the Reichenbach Fall in season 2, episode 3.

Even Angels Fall

I was so alone

I was so afraid

No longer fitting in

Where once there was no question I belonged

I was broken

I was damaged

I was stagnant

I wanted to die

Stamford saw me walking

He had no idea my thoughts were of suicide

Divine providence?

I almost thought so

Like a dark angel

You swooped in

And plucked away my service arm

Replacing it with a life worth living

So many times you cheated the Reaper

He must have been angry

But then...I guess even angels must fall eventually

I'd have gladly taken that fall in your stead

You performed so many miracles

Is one more too much to ask?

Come back to me

So I may say the words I once feared to give voice to

Author's Note: Fan poem in the POV of the BBC's Sherlock version of Dr. John Watson, set after the Reichenbach Fall in season 2, episode 3

Unspoken

So little time elapses

But already eons have flown

Time is irrelevant

Inconsistent

Without you

The flat lifeless

The pictures haunted

The skull mournful

The city sounds outside the window

Dull

As a train wreck

The creases where you sat

Undisturbed

There was so much I felt

So much I should have said

The flat is haunted

By your memory

By my emotion

By words left unspoken

Author's Note: A fan poem in the POV of the BBC's Sherlock version of Dr. John Watson, set in season 2, episode 3, after the Reichenbach Fall

Always

The price to be near you

So high for everyone else

Is nothing to me

My freedom

My name

My reputation

My life

I gladly sacrifice as needed

With no regrets

I watch you every day

Holding back the things I want to say

The man who knows everything

You observe all available data

For everyone

And everything

But you never truly notice me

Standing right here beside you

Always

Author's Note: This is a fan poem done in the POV of the BBC's Sherlock version of Dr. John Watson.