He has to stop doing this to himself—it isn’t healthy. But since when is anything he does these days good for him?
Sherlock watches him from a distance, coming day after day to stare at that damned headstone. (Does he even go home anymore?) Most of the time he just stares at the engraving, shoulders hunched, eyes empty. Sometimes he sits down beside it, leaning his back on the cool stone. Sherlock is too far away to hear, but he can see John’s mouth moving and he can’t help but wonder exactly what John is saying to him.