Stars
"Stars."
"...Your skill for stating the obvious has transcended mortal ability."
"Pfh, no. Look."
"...Mm. They are far more visible here."
...
"Sometimes they make me feel lonely."
"...?"
"Well, it's just...The universe is so vast. The stars are so ancient. You know, the light we see up there, those little pinpoints, each one is from - just, an incomprehensible amount of time ago. Some of those light particles started traveling this way before time even existed. Just floating unhindered through empty space for eternity, or so it seemed, but then suddenly here we are, standing in the way. Against all odds, those light particles stop. Their journeys end. Because we happened to be where they were going. An ancient pilgrimage ended in our eyes."
"..."
"I can't decide if that's hopeful or sad."
"It's a fact, John."
...
"John?"
"Mm?"
"You deserve to be the end of an ancient light particle's journey."
...
"Thanks, Sherlock."
Later that night John startles awake, clearly from a nightmare. Sherlock simply holds him, letting him recover in silence. Until finally Sherlock murmurs, "What was it?"
"...Was ridiculous."
"Mm."
"...You were a star."
"Mm?"
"You burst, poured into light particles. Showered down on the Earth. Ended there. No more Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock holds John a little tighter. John whispers, "It was beautiful."