The Captain and the Patriot

Epilogue

★ Warning! If you don't want the story to end on a down note or you don't read the comic books and have no knowledge of Marvel's superhero civil war then please skip to the next bolded text! ★

The sandy blond stood in Arlington national cemetery, in front of the headstone, and monument of his hero, Captain America.

Steve was gunned down right before his trial. Alfred had even payed for one of the best lawyers for him. But, Steve never made it inside.

The day of the funeral Alfred had showed up, and the only one who noticed him was Tony Stark, who had only made eye contact.

And now he was standing here alone in the cemetery. Steve and Alfred had exchanged a few letters like in the old days, but that was before the superhuman registration act blew out of proportion.

Steve Rogers was a true hero, he died doing what he thought was right, for those he loved, and his country. Alfred knew his country if it ever to fall like the Roman Empire did, he would want to go heroically, like his captain did.

★ Alright it is safe to read past this point! ★

First I would like to thank everyone who read this short story, to be honest I wasn't really sure how to write this story or exactly how I was to go about it, I just knew that this kind of crossover had to be done.

I feel kinda bad that it ended so quickly though. But there wasn't really anything left for our heroes to do. :(

I am a big Hetalia fan and a huge Marvel fan, America isn't exactly my favorite character even though I like him, I had to do a bit of character research on him to try to get him right.

And for Captain America, and the Marvel element of the story I tried to stay more in the movie because that is more well known then the comic books. But I did include it since it was a little nessacary and I'm a huge comic nerd.

Thanks again for reading this story now I would like to give you a sneak peek of my next crossover story; Stevenson Syndrome.

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"John? John Watson?"

The voice asked, and it did sound familiar. John turned around in his chair, leaning his arm against the back of it, while glancing up at the man.

"Arthur? God, how long has it been!?" He says standing up to greet his friend. "How have you been?"

"I've been better, but ya know... how about you?"

"Pretty good recently."

Sherlock profoundly cleared his throat. Catching the hint John turned towards Sherlock.

"Oh Arthur, this is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is a friend of mine who I fought with in Afghanistan, Arthur Kirkland." Sherlock stands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Arthur says sticking a hand out for a handshake. Sherlock instead grabs his hand to examine it.

Arthur looks mildly confused as the raven haired man overlooks his hand, as some kind of palm reader.

"...uh?"

"Sherlock-!" John hissed.

"Sorry, he does this-"

"Few callouses, but many underlaying scars. But you probably are doing some kind of menial tasks now, seeming as your hands seem to not have any new signs of effortful work."

"Um, yes, I do office work, organizing paperwork."

"Would have been my first guess."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock is a consulting detective, and likes doing things like this to keep himself on his toes."

"No, I just enjoy doing it." Sherlock corrects with a straight face.

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