The fire was mainly out; the firemen wetting down the hot spots. The smoldering embers of the house were all that remained of the crime scene. John stood in the garden. At his feet, the remnants of a beautiful rose were set aglow by the fire that consumed it.
Sherlock came to stand behind him. His face smudged with ash. His great coat smelling strongly of smoke. He saw John's gaze locked onto the dying rose and his heart nearly broke. Always the healer, savior and soldier. His healer, savior and soldier.</p>
"If not for you, I would be joining that rose in its final moments of existence."
John turned slowly, his midnight blue eyes are moist, near tears but not letting them
fall. He reaches for Sherlock and takes him into his strong embrace. Sherlock smiles and melts into John's welcomed unconditional love.
"You mad fool." John says with humor and relief in his voice."You are the only rose in my garden". John comments with love in his words.
The rose is utterly consumed by the fire within it. Sherlock knows exactly how that