Chapter XI - Almost in reach

                                    

                                          
As soon as my head hit the pillow I knew it was a mistake. Now, at 1.20 am I lied in bed and wondered why I ever thought sleep would be a good idea. I exhaled deeply, Molly's words plaguing my thoughts. Sleep was obsolete when all I could hear was "you love him' echoing in mind.
                          
Love. What's 'love' anyway? I've always thought that it was a chemical defect of the human condition. Whatever it was, it was always a foreign concept to me. I've always been so sure that love is a dangerous disadvantage that I had built barriers separating myself from my emotions. Not that I ever thought love would happen to me. People are so boring with their mundane lives, letting all sorts of rubbish consume them. Just being in a room full of people supports my theory of my superiority. But John... John's different. 
                          
I wonder how Molly knew before I did. She could be wrong. She, and many others, thought that I had feelings for Irene Adler, which definitely wasn't the case. I was just playing the game, and to an extent, so was she. But I knew that Molly wasn't wrong because every time I just think of John, my stomach creates knots, and because I admire every detail and facet that is John Watson.
                          
And I miss him. That's the worst part of all this. 
                          
Molly said that just telling him would be enough, but surely that wouldn't work. I'm surprised enough that John would ever be friends with someone like myself, I can only see that confessing my feelings would only make things worse. Just having John back in Baker street would be enough.
                          
With all efforts of sleep lost, I trudged to my board. My eyes wandered to the photograph of John is his soldier uniform, and I felt a smile tug at my lips. I tore my eyes away from the photo, now looking at the picture of the cemetery. I decided that I would go tomorrow. Bugger tomorrow, I'm going now. 
                          
Once I had gotten dressed and donned my trench coat, I hailed a cab which took a terribly long time as the streets were empty. As I sat in the cab and tugged at my black gloves I watched London turn into a blur. The car came to a sudden halt as it meet a red light, and in that moment I craved a cigarette. I was doing quite well, though. I hadn't lit a cigarette in the past five months. It'd be a waste if I gave in at the moment of sorrow. The driver continued driving until he stopped outside St Woolos cemetery. 
                          
I trudged my way through the snow-white snow and found myself staring at my own grave site. An eerie scene for anyone. The cemetery appeared to be deserted, but I knew that wasn't the case as I heard footsteps shuffling in the snow. I looked down at my grave once again, but noticed something I didn't before. A posted note was stuck next to the Holmes of my name. I deduced that it was placed there fairly recently by the stickiness of the note. I picked it up, my eyes wandering the cemetery. I saw no sign of life, and exhaled. 
                          
2. 11. 12 was written on the note. I immediately recognized John's handwriting and felt my chest tighten, feeling as though breath was scarce. I looked around the cemetery once more, hoping to spot John. I pocketed the note, and took a step forward. The icy air sent a chill up my spine. I tugged at my gloves again, trying to hold onto a source of warmth.
                          
The air was misty, and for only a second, I saw someone's breath take a foggy shape in the air behind a tree only a few meters away. I walked closer to it, placing my feet in the correct positions, not wanting to make even the slightest noise. Snow made this difficult, every now and then making a crunch sound. 
                          
I was in reach of the tree, so close that I could almost feel the breath of the person. My nerves were tingling with excitement, and before the person could move I stood right in front of the tree, having them right where I wanted them. 
                          
Attached to the tree was a blank note. 
                          
~
                          
Author's note:
                          
I was meant to publish this chapter yesterday, but Wattpad goofed. But the chapter is now up and is ready for reading purposes!  
                          
Any ideas on what 2.11.12 means? It really isn't that difficult. 
                          
Thanks for reading!