Harold had been tired when they first entered the restaurant. He had had a long night, shoved into the pillow as John had stressed about his imminent proposal. He had been drifting off, waiting for Mary to come back so John could just get on with it, when he was pulled from his stupor.
It was when he first saw that slender, black beauty resting upon the lip of a tall, curly haired man. He could see the other moustache practically glistening in the lighting, and as the man leant over to advise John on wine, he introduced himself.
“Excuse me, but I must say you look very handsome this evening, and I was wondering if I could inquire about your name?” he asked tentatively.
The other moustache looked a little startled at being addressed, but replied in a luxurious French accent.
“Oui, yes, my name is Francois, and you?” He says, sounding rather suggestive for only offering his name.
Harold knew then that Francois was perfect.
“My name is Harold, and it truly is a pleasure to meet you, Francois,”
“What a lovely name, and I must say, you as well look rather ravishing,”
After that, they exchanged a few more words, and then Sherlock walked away. They spoke again, but soon, those who wore them upon their lips engaged in confrontation.
As soon as Harold saw what Sherlock was doing with the napkin he was wetting, he proclaimed his true feelings.
“Francois! I must tell you, I love you deeply, you and your shining beauty, please, please you must escape!” Harold shouted. It was then that Francois realized what was happening.
“Harold! I, too, love you, and wish only that we could have had more time together!” Which is Francois’ last words, save for the shriek that was cut short as Sherlock wiped him away, and Harold felt a tear drip down.
He felt empty inside, and his isolation grew as the night went on and several things came to light, such as the fact that Mary herself despised him. Sherlock, who seemed to be very important to John, seemed repulsed by him.
While he had been able to previously put Mrs. Hudsons words out of his mind, he could no longer ignore it. He had no place in this world, especially without his beloved Francois. He started to plan.
That evening, as John was speaking with Mary, he whispered ideas to him, and his plan eventually came to fruition.
He felt no hesitation as he was covered in shaving cream, and watched as the razor descended upon him.
He felt peace as he disappeared into nothingness, thinking only of his precious Francois.
I will be with you soon he thinks as everything slips away.
My only request of my BFFL for my bday this year is that she waits in a restaurant in a suit with a sandy blonde mustache as I roll up in a suit and glasses and a drawn on mustache(No7 eyeliner pen obviously) and we could call our mustaches Francios and Harold and I could say “short version; not dead” and then she could try to choke me and we would get kicked out of the place but she told me no