19 and 44!
19. What's your biggest 'what-if'?
Sherlock was still for a long time, resting his steepled fingers against his mouth.
He stood in the graveyard behind an ancient stone. John - his John - was bent over the polished black stone bearing his name. He could hear him speaking, hear the heartfelt and choked confessions, hear the desperate request for just one more miracle.
Telling himself it was yet another manifestation of the post-mortem halo bias - John only felt so strongly about him because he was dead - Sherlock had turned up his collar and melted back into the shadows beneath the nearby trees. In a few weeks, John would be right as rain - he'd forget the color of Sherlock's eyes, the way he took his tea, how to read what he meant from what he said - and only think back maybe once or twice a year; tales to tell his family one day about that mad detective he used to know.
He'd tried very hard to pretend that he was fine with all of that. By the time he was out of British airspace that evening, he'd almost convinced himself that he was.
But what if he hadn't?
What if he'd stepped forward instead of back, laid a hand on John's shoulder and turned him around where he could smile down at him with a saucy, "Your wish is my command,"?
What if he'd taken John with him?
"I have no such moment. Regrets hinge on sentiment and sentiment is a foolish weakness I cannot afford."
44. What makes a great relationship?
Acceptance.
"I'm hardly the person to ask about such things. You'll want to speak to John."
