Work Text:
I still make tea.
Now, instead of placing it by your side
I put it on table beside me.
I let it run cold,
much like how you used to.
I cannot count the number of cups I've made
that you'd forgotten about;
too caught up in your latest case,
or plans to one-up Mycroft to remember.
I sit there with the full cup by my side
and sometimes I'll glance at it and forget.
I'll open my mouth to tell you off for forgetting
and then remember you're not here to hear it.
I shattered your favourite mug last week, that's six now, all thrown at walls in the house we shared.
One each time I remember that I've forgotten.
I clean up the shards, wipe away the puddle of cold tea on the floor.
Then I put the kettle on and take a fresh mug from the cupboard.