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Description
The scarf.

A simple scarf.

But this scarf's so much more than the others I have in my closet.

This one was yours.

What it was doing in my closet was beyond me... And then I remembered.

Last year.

Mrs. Hudson going through your things to pack up into storage, only for me to barge in and insist rather outspokenly that everything stay exactly where it was.

Bless Mrs. Hudson for understanding and putting up with me...

But before I closed the door to your room, I saw your scarf that you had haphazardly laid over a chair. You were never one for cleaning... I don't know what possessed me to take it for myself, but I had decided that under the circumstances, you really wouldn't mind.

And now here it was again in my hands, almost a year since you...

Once again, I try to swallow the lump in my throat and wipe my eyes. It doesn't happen as often now, but sometimes it sneaks up on me out of nowhere. Slowly I run my fingers over the soft fabric; it seemed like you were always wearing one of these.

And then I catch it...

Your scent...

Slowly I bring the scarf close to my face, take a breath and sigh.

It's filled with your scent.

Granted, it smells like a mixture of the morgue, the lab and a slight touch of the fingers you kept in the fridge that you had finally decided to do something with... But it's you.

And to my own surprise, I smile.

For the first time, memories of you don't hurt. Rather, they're welcoming. And the memories rush back; the day we met, the running after you on your cases, the sound of you composing on your violin as you worked on a case, the hundred times that I had to say to everyone, "I'm not his date..."

I breathe it in again.

More memories...

And I laugh.

You sitting in Buckingham Palace wearing nothing but that sheet and then stealing one of their ashtrays for me, that cuppa that you made me that one time (it really did taste horrible) and yelling at all hours of the night while watching crap telly...

And for the first time I realize, I'm going to be okay. I'll be able to go on living. After all, it's what you would have wanted for me.

I wrap your scarf around my neck and put on my coat before walking out the door into the late autumn afternoon. I'm out of milk and Mrs. Hudson needs some sugar as well from the grocery. It's not really cold enough for a scarf and I never wear one anyway.

But I just want to keep you with me a little bit longer...

-The End-

Description
The scarf.

A simple scarf.

But this scarf's so much more than the others I have in my closet.

This one was yours.

What it was doing in my closet was beyond me... And then I remembered.

Last year.

Mrs. Hudson going through your things to pack up into storage, only for me to barge in and insist rather outspokenly that everything stay exactly where it was.

Bless Mrs. Hudson for understanding and putting up with me...

But before I closed the door to your room, I saw your scarf that you had haphazardly laid over a chair. You were never one for cleaning... I don't know what possessed me to take it for myself, but I had decided that under the circumstances, you really wouldn't mind.

And now here it was again in my hands, almost a year since you...

Once again, I try to swallow the lump in my throat and wipe my eyes. It doesn't happen as often now, but sometimes it sneaks up on me out of nowhere. Slowly I run my fingers over the soft fabric; it seemed like you were always wearing one of these.

And then I catch it...

Your scent...

Slowly I bring the scarf close to my face, take a breath and sigh.

It's filled with your scent.

Granted, it smells like a mixture of the morgue, the lab and a slight touch of the fingers you kept in the fridge that you had finally decided to do something with... But it's you.

And to my own surprise, I smile.

For the first time, memories of you don't hurt. Rather, they're welcoming. And the memories rush back; the day we met, the running after you on your cases, the sound of you composing on your violin as you worked on a case, the hundred times that I had to say to everyone, "I'm not his date..."

I breathe it in again.

More memories...

And I laugh.

You sitting in Buckingham Palace wearing nothing but that sheet and then stealing one of their ashtrays for me, that cuppa that you made me that one time (it really did taste horrible) and yelling at all hours of the night while watching crap telly...

And for the first time I realize, I'm going to be okay. I'll be able to go on living. After all, it's what you would have wanted for me.

I wrap your scarf around my neck and put on my coat before walking out the door into the late autumn afternoon. I'm out of milk and Mrs. Hudson needs some sugar as well from the grocery. It's not really cold enough for a scarf and I never wear one anyway.

But I just want to keep you with me a little bit longer...

-The End-