It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

Epilogue

A week after the suicide of the fake genius, a double funeral was held - for both him and her.

Hearing of Elizabeth's death had broke John further. He had forgiven her. He thought he still had a close friend but he had been woefully wrong.

Mycroft had tried to argue that there was no one worried by Elizabeth's death so, in his eyes, she could be burned and her ashes could be spread for all he cared. But it was both Rita and John that had fought passionately for her to have a funeral and for her grave to be placed by the detective's for John wished to visit them together.

Trying to keep it positive, he thought that at least his two deceased friends wouldn't be alone.

Sherlock had visited the joint funeral from afar, keeping out of sight of all present which really only happened to be a handful. Although, he was surprised to find Anderson and Donovan there. How guilty they must have felt.

Kind of deserved it though for being pricks all the time...

Karma was a (fake) bitch after all.

Two weeks after the suicide, Sherlock had heard that John and Mrs Hudson would be visiting their graves again. He hadn't arrived in time to hear their conversation but had arrived to see Mrs Hudson walk away, giving the doctor a moment alone.

"Um...mmm. Right, you...you told me once...that you weren't a hero," John took a breath, "Um...there were times I didn't even think you were human but let me tell you this, you were the best man and the most human human being that I have ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, okay? So...there." John turned to Elizabeth's gravestone, "And you, you were never a bad person. Ever. No one, not even Mycroft will convince me that you are a terrible person. Never. You were good, through and through and you made mistakes but then, we all do. We all make mistakes. And as I said before, I forgive you for yours."

Sighing, John took a step to stand between both their gravestones, placing his hands on the smooth black stone carefully.

"I was so alone. And I owe you both so much." He nodded, turning to walk away. But he couldn't leave just yet and turned back to face them again, "Oh, please, there's just one more thing, right? One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, Elizabeth, for me. Don't be...dead." The doctor's voice broke, "Would you, just for me, just stop it? Stop this." Sighing deeply again, his head fell as a quiet sob sounded from him and tears fell from his eyes.

John wiped his hands over his eyes, composing himself before looking up again, the soldier in him being given permission to take over, marching him away from their graves.

At least one of us can make his request come true. One day.

Yes. One day. Sherlock watched his friend walk away from their graves, lingering in the shadow of the tree he was under for just a moment, just until he was gone. Then, he paced over to the graves himself, stopping in front of Elizabeth's. He reached down to delicately placed a fine, lone rose on her grave, looking up at his vision of her again.

"I agree." He said, "I wish that you could stop being dead too."

I'm still here.

"It's not the same."

No. But I know you would rather have me than nothing.

* * * * * * * *

The man and The Woman heard shouty singing from behind her apartment door and shared a look. Opening it gingerly, they both peered in, chuckling quietly at the sight they saw before them.