BBC Sherlock: A Good Neighbor

[RealisticFantasy]

"You know, some women put on makeup simply because they like it. But, let's say you're right and that I'm trying to look better for you. What of it then?" She pulls her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall around her face and shoulders in loose waves. Wouldn't it be strange if Sherlock Holmes could sort her feelings better than she could? Of course, she already knew the answer. She knew what all of it meant. But, she didn't want to admit it. Olivia didn't want to fall in love because love lead to heart break and she wasn't going to let that happen to herself.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

"Women put on make up to look nice and feel good about themselves, almost a reassurance that they're pretty. Why would you need that reassurance if you saw the two of us as completely platonic? Well, you wouldn't now would you? Thus, attraction. And what would I do about the fact that you have a crush on me? I'd probably have to think on it before giving you a firm answer. But you do intrigue me, Ms. Moore. I think your chances are very high." His grey eyes piercing into her own brown ones as a smirk rose to his lips.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

"What would you want with an ordinary person like me, Mr. Holmes? What on Earth could you find intriguing about that? You didn't even notice that I moved in for quite some time. How does someone so observant miss something so obvious?" She didn't quite know how she felt about this conversation. It certainly was helping her get a few things off her chest that she had been holding onto for a while. Leaning back into her seat, she folds her hands in her lap with her expression stoic. Well, as stoic as she could manage.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

"If you were ordinary you wouldn't be intriguing. Did you think of that?" He asked raising an eye brow at her as he looked out the window for a moment. ''You also stated you didn't know who you were living under for a few months, so the blame can't entirely be placed on me." He looked at her for a long moment when the buzzer sounded for the chicken as he stood up and turned it off. Pulling out their chicken as he began grabbing at plates. "Perhaps you don't have any attractions to me. That's fine."

 

[RealisticFantasy]

"Or, perhaps I do." She shrugs and gets to her feet with a small smirk that quickly transitions into a smile when she sees John coming up the stairs to 221B. "Perhaps you do what?" Olivia glances over to Sherlock, her smile widening. "Uh, perhaps I like curry chicken. Haven't had it before. Sherlock and I were just having a chat about it." John nods and walks into the kitchen, looking at the chicken then at Sherlock and pointing at the chicken. "Did you make that?"


"It was a team effort. Sherlock bought milk today, John. It's a miracle." John and Olivia both laugh. "It is indeed." Olivia looks over John, deciding that he was holding back because she was here as if she didn't hear their constant bickering. John seemed the type to hold a grudge to her, at least when it came to Sherlock.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

"Oh come on John, don't act surprised. I always cook." He said as he grabbed another plate. "You know, Olivia, just because you're intriguing doesn't make you as clever as you'd like to believe." He murmured as he plated the chicken and handed one to John first before one to Olivia. Finally plating his own and sitting down across from John as he normally did.


"Sherlock, I think their might be a case coming up. Lestrade called and asked about if you were working on anything of the late from others."


"Ah, perfect. I've been scratching to get my hands on something interesting of the late."

 

[RealisticFantasy]

Olivia takes her plate with a cheerful thanks, deciding to drop the topic of attraction. She eats the chicken happily, listening to John and Sherlock chat. After she's finished, she gets up and rises off her plate like a proper guest. "I think it's time I pop back into my flat. Thank you for the lovely day and, as always, it was a pleasure to see you, John. Keep in touch, the both of you." She flashes a smile and waves before heading down to 221C. After soon as she shuts the door to her flat behind her, her phone starts ringing, the screen informing her that's it's from a blocked caller. She picks it up, thinking that it's strange that she shouldn't know whoever was calling her considering her limited number of contacts.


By the end of the call, she curled up on her couch, feeling nauseous and shaky. She wishes that she could convince herself that it was just some prank, that she could just shrug it off and everything would be fine. But, it was all too real. Now, she knew what was about to come and the worst of it all was that the one person she wanted to tell most, she couldn't breathe a word to.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock gave her a nod and a wink when she left, before continuing a short but enjoyable conversation with John. The both of them sitting down in the living room for tea as they chatted about random things. They did rather enjoy each other's company. It was something simple that the both of them had in common, that they both annoyed each other to no end and could still sit down at the end of the day and have a simple but eloquent conversation. That night, Sherlock turned in early, heading to bed and sleeping through the night without an issue.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

Olivia couldn't sleep at all. No matter how hard she tried. She spends the entire night on couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to debate whether or not she was actually going to vomit. When the sun had risen and there was a threat of any of the other residents of 221 Baker Street stopping by, she gets up from her couch and bolts her door. She also decides to turn off her phone for good measure. There was no way she could face any of them without entirely breaking down. But, there were lives at stake, not just her own. She couldn't allow her emotions to keep her from doing what she had to do, no matter how painful. She was given a few days to prepare as she was informed that Sherlock would be distracted by work. Her part was one of the last pieces of the puzzle and according to him, one of the most vital.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock, that next morning, went out with John. They didn't see Olivia, or hear from her that day. Unknown to them that they would not see her again for a while, because she was going through a tough time, and they were about to as well. The following day, Sherlock became occupied with the opening of the recovery of the piece of art. The Reichenbach piece, and later that afternoon, he got news that Moriarty was back. Broke into the museum with the crown jewels and even managed to get inside to put them on. As well as he unlocked the Bank of England's vault and Pentonville Prison. The psycho even openly allowed him to get arrested.


Sherlock also was given news of a case, that the Ambassador to the U.S.'s children had been abducted, and he was needed to solve get them back. He was taken to the boarding school they had been at, the day they were discovered missing was the day after the children of the school had been released for holiday. There were plenty of strangers milling about and some how, a man had been able to abduct two children right from under the school's noses. There had been only two children on the floor at the time, and somehow a person was able to abduct both of them.


Needless to say he went from having nothing to do, to having many issues arise up all at once, and he now was very occupied with his time.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

The silence on Baker Street didn't bother Olivia like it had before. Now, it was welcomed openly, reassuring her that she wouldn't have to face the biggest challenge of her life. One word that he didn't agree with and he'd blow up a school. That's what he said. A whole school full of innocent children, teachers, and whoever else happened to be there at the time if she said a single word out of line. And, they knew. Every single person in that school was being held against their will. They all knew that their lives depended on her word, her trustworthiness. How could anyone stay rational knowing that one word, one gesture could be the difference between life and death of hundreds?


On the 16th of March, his plan was set into action. He told her every painful detail. She could have sworn he liked the emotional torture. Now, she knew everything that was to come - at least, from his perspective - and she couldn't breathe a word of it. It had taken her a few days to recover and to collect herself. Luckily for her, Sherlock was to busy being named the 'Reichenbach Hero' to notice her absence. When she finally tried to resume her normal activities, the days that she days she even saw Sherlock became few and far between, let alone the ones that she spoke to him. She was able to chat with John every once in a while, but it never amounted to much.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock became very occupied with the case. Actually both of the cases. The first being the case about the children, and the second about Moriaty's case. Or rather his trial. He and John had been going over it for a few days, reviewing what would be important, and on the ride over, John tried to remind Sherlock of exactly what he needed to not do, but Sherlock was too focused to really take any of his advice. His information during the trial was convincing, but he was pompous and acted superior as always. He overstepped his boundaries, and the judge got angry, resulting in Sherlock getting tossed into a holding cell while John had to go bail him out.


The following day was much worse. Though Sherlock was not allowed to return, John was, and over the next few months, Moriarty is finally released. Walking free based on his innocence despite the fact that there was no defense for him, he walked free. John was baffled, and called Sherlock immediately. Upon hearing the news, Sherlock hung up on John, and awaited his visitor, leaning back in his seat as he waited, playing the violin. Once the meeting between Sherlock and Moriarty was over, Sherlock had a bitter taste in his mouth, and a growing sense of dread. If there was one man he hated more than his brother, it would be him. Moriarty. Sherlock hated that man with every fiber of his being. He did however, need to focus on the case at hand and not the man who told him he owed him a fall.


John and Sherlock were waiting to go into the lab to go over some foot print analysis as he sighed gently. Molly needed to be there, and she was coming over to the flat before all three of them left together to work. It was going to be stressful, but hopefully successful, Sherlock sat in his black chair, meddling with a small stress ball John had brought home from work.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

Things were happening exactly as Moriarty had told her. After the first call, there was very much interference from him. There were a few texts here and there, mostly boasting or reminders to her to not overstep her limits. After seeing the man walk free with no defense, she knew the time was all too near and there was nothing she could do. She packs a small bag of necessities, deciding to head out for the night or a couple of days or however long it took her to recover from a situation that could be described as nothing else but traumatic. Of course, she would have to return to Baker Street eventually but that wasn't going to be any time soon. She glances down the sidewalk in either direction before deciding just to walk instead of take a taxi. She had no idea where she was going anyway and maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get murdered before she had to deliver her lines.


After receiving her signal of "NOW -JM," she slips into a nearby alleyway so that the street noise wouldn't be picked up in the call. She leans against the building, knowing that she wouldn't be able to stand for long after her speech began. She taps her phone against her lips, hesitating for as long as she could. Another vibration breaks the silence and she reads the text from a blocked number: "Don't take too long. People are counting on you -JM." Finally, she brings herself to dial her number. She has to redial a few times due to her shakiness. Collecting herself in one deep breath and hitting the call button, she washes away any hint that her next weren't the absolute truth and presses the phone to her ear.


"Sherlock, have you missed me? Shh, shh. Don't talk, just listen. It's time to put the cards on the table. It's time for the big reveal. Bit more tragic that way, isn't it? The once brilliant hero reduced to a heartbroken liar and a psychopath who has to... Well, you'll find out. Ha! Don’t you get it yet, my favorite little genius?" She says genius in a tone absolutely dripping with sarcasm. "It’s all part of the plan. Someone had to keep a close eye on you. And, John was too loyal. Like a sick puppy. Sherlock Holmes and his pet. Cute. Breaks my heart, really it does." She lets out a small giggle.


"Isn’t it all just perfect? You fell into Jim's little trap so easily." She gushes the villain's name as if it didn't make her absolutely sick. "And, here I was actually thinking you were smart. But, don't beat yourself up about it. You can't help it. Didn't you say once something like sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side? Jim knew that. He played into that. He told me how to get you wrapped around my pretty little finger. You like to pretend that you’re above everyone, that you don’t get attached. But, look how easy it was, Sherlock. Look how easy you are to fool. It's a little pathetic, actually." She pauses half a beat to listen to the silence on the other end.


"Oh, you poor thing. You didn't actually think I fancied you, did you? Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock... Poor deluded Sherlock. I'm absolutely flattered, I really am. But..." She pauses with a patronizing sigh. "Darling, no one could ever love a man like you. Not really, I mean. People like winners, Sherlock. Sure, maybe you won a couple battles here and there. But, Jim... Jim won the war. And, that's what really matters. The end result. Not how you got there, not your heroic failures, not how many people you impressed along the way. The only thing that matters is winning. And, you lost, Sherlock. So, I don't need you as my little plaything anymore. It was fun while it lasted but all things must come to an end. Even the reign of Sherlock Holmes. Ta, darling. Have a nice fall."


She hangs up without waiting to hear his rebuttal, sliding down the wall until she's seated on the ground and pressing her head into her folded arms. There's a brief moment when everything is just fine. A soft wind causes a newspaper to go tumbling down the alleyway. Olivia lifts her gaze at the sound. Catching sight of her "Reichenbach Hero," she collapses into uncontrollable sobs.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock answered the phone as he listened for longer, he had put it on speaker for John to hear as they stared at each other in silence for a minute. Once she had hung up, he shut the phone and stared at John for a few moments before shrugging lightly. On the exterior, he seemed cool and collected. The interior was a different story. He was furious at the woman and for the first time he felt violent and wanted to hurt her. John on the other hand look less than okay as he stared at Sherlock. He pushed himself off the couch and went down the stairs to where Mrs. Hudson was and explained the situation. Now, Mrs. Hudson did like Olivia, but Mrs. Hudson was not nearly as attacked to her as she was to John and Sherlock.


Within twenty minutes Mrs. Hudson was shouting about her and was in her flat. Lucky for Mrs. Hudson, Olivia didn't have much in there, and John was feeling very motivated. That woman had called him a pet and she was working with Moriarty, she really should've chosen a different place to live than directly under the two of them. Sherlock went down the stairs as he looked at John who was carrying boxes hastily packed out of the flat and out the back door. Dropping them in the small shed out back as Mrs. Hudson packed up the things. Within the hour, Olivia's room was completely empty, lacking everything but the bed and the couch. Too big for them to put in the shed.


Sherlock and John began walking to the lab, Molly having been told them to just come to the lab instead of waiting, that she'd be in there once they arrived. Sherlock and John walked passed the same alley way holding Olivia, but they didn't turn to address the sobbing sounds, they were much too occupied about what had just happened. John was still furious. "I swear if I ever see that woman." John said to Sherlock as they walked. Huffing at himself and her, his anger was rightfully placed.


That day, they worked tirelessly to identify the fragments from the foot step that had been trapped in the oil the child had split all over the floor. Eventually, Sherlock was able to find where it was and it wasn't until later that evening when things started to fray at the seams. Lestrade showed up speaking of taking him in and when Sherlock refused, he was forced to go to his chief. The following evening resulted in Sherlock getting put in handcuffs as well as John for punching the chief square in the nose for talking poorly about Sherlock. Police cars chased through the neighborhood attempting to catch Sherlock and John, but to no avail.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

"Great performance, darling -JM." The text was the last thing she wanted. She knew things were coming to a close, but Moriarty's grip was no looser than it had been before. Clumsily getting to her feet and using the way as a support, she felt nauseous and dizzy and weak. No, things were permanent now. There was no going back. Knowing the next step in Moriarty's plan, she felt far beyond nauseous and her stomach agreed as she doubles over and vomits.


Saint Bart's. That was the name, wasn't it? She had to talk to someone, any one. But, she couldn't. He said that she couldn't give Sherlock or John or Mrs. Hudson or Mycroft or Lestrade even a look that might hint to something being off or he'd blow the building and everyone inside to pieces. That was everyone she had ever met in London, save for cashiers and the lot. No. That wasn't right. She straightens and wipes her mouth, stumbling due to her weak knees toward the street to catch a taxi. Molly. She was her loophole. Moriarty had listed off the names and hers wasn't among them. Surely, that meant he didn't know about her or didn't care to.


She flags down a taxi as police cars race off from 221 Baker Street. Olivia couldn't stop the inevitable seeing as she was still on Moriarty's leash but maybe Molly could. Olivia throws a generous amount for fare to the cabbie, telling him to drive as fast as possible to St. Bart's hospital. Time was a limited resource and she couldn't waste any of it by sitting in traffic.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock began analyzing the information from the footsteps and glanced at John who was working in a room slightly adjacent. Sighing gently to himself as he kept his eyes resting on the counter top and looking over the chalk dust as he sighed softly. Beginning to work on the next one, which would turn out to be vegetation when Molly began speaking to him. He looked up and his mouth sort of moved around a bit before shutting as she walked off to get some crackers for her and John. John had updated her slightly on what had happened, she knew basics. The woman living under them had tricked them and ended up crossing them by working for Moriarty. She thought her name was Olive, but she wasn't sure. John had been speaking in such a flurry that there was little she could pick out except for the big scheme of things.


Molly glanced at the two of them as she sighed to herself, whoever the woman was, she didn't know how she felt about her. It seemed like she really didn't matter in the grand picture. Just someone who was used to gab at Sherlock, so really, John should calm down a bit. However, what she had done was really horrid, and she also didn't know how she felt about that. It was Sherlock. The man she'd do mostly anything for. Except now she didn't have much of a clue, and she was standing in line at the cafeteria as she waited. Moving to buy the things John and her wanted as she thought for a moment about Sherlock. She wanted to help him. She hoped he'd come to her if he needed anything.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

Olivia jobs into the lobby of St. Bart's, pausing at reception only to rattle off, "Where's Molly Hooper?" She remembered seeing her name in the paper once and that little bit of knowledge proved to be useful at the moment. "Actually, I don't have time for this." Olivia jogs off down the hall followed by a shout of "You can't go down there! It's not visiting hours!" Olivia didn't cared if she had to disturb the entire hospital to find Molly. She stopped every doctor, nurse, janitor, anyone who might know where Molly was.


Finally, she runs into someone who tells Olivia that she was in the cafeteria. With a hurried thanks, Olivia sprints full speed to the cafeteria. Sliding into the room that remembered far too much of her elementary school years and knocking over an artificial plant, Olivia certainly calls attention to herself. She glances down at the plant embarrassed, before focusing on the task at hand. "I need to speak to Molly Hooper. Immediately. It is of the utmost importance." The cafeteria pauses then erupts in it's usual murmur. No one seemed to realize the severity of the situation and she could only hope that Molly had heard her.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Molly smiled gently at the man who handed her back her change. Her attention moving to the woman who was shouting for her as she raised an eye brow slowly. Who was this? She grabbed her things as she moved down to hold in her arms, performing a balancing act as she weaved through the cafeteria. Murmuring an excuse me to the man who was in her way as she stepped around them. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she smiled slightly as she approached the woman. Her eyes raking over her, she looked terrible. But she didn't know if that's how she normally looked, so she kept her opinions to herself.


"I'm Molly Hooper. Do I know you? Are you looking for Sherlock?" She asked raising an eye brow at her as she shifted the bottled water and bags in her arms over so she could reach out to shake her hand, offering her a warm smile.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

She shakes Molly's hand hurriedly, glancing around for anyone who might be a spy for Moriarty. "Quite the opposite actually. I'd like to avoid him until things... settle. I, uh, I did I terrible thing, Molly. My name's Olivia, but that's not important. I said some things I didn't mean at all. I had to. I had to. But, we don't have time for this. A lot to explain in a short amount of time." She lowers her voice, though she was fairly certain the murmur of idle chit chat covered her pretty well. "He's going to kill Sherlock, Molly. He's isolating him, trying to trap him so he has no one to turn to. You have to go make sure Sherlock knows what he's up against. He has to find a way to trick the trickster. And, if there's a chance, tell him goodbye for me. I don't have time to justify what I did, but I promise you I didn't mean a word of it. Not a word."


Her phone buzzes, another text from a blocked number. Jim was trying to torture her, to push her to do what she couldn't. The text read: "Rooftop rendezvous. How romantic. -JM." She lifts her gaze from her phone, her eyes widening. "I have to go. Please, Molly. You have to trust me. You're the only one that can do this. You can save Sherlock." Olivia hesitates before giving Molly a quick hug, careful not to disturb the things she's carried, and hurries outside St. Bart's. As soon as she lifts her gaze to the top of the building, she gets another text: "I'm so glad you've decided to watch the show. I won't disappoint. And, remember. You helped this -JM"

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Molly watched the flustered woman for a moment. Realizing who she was as she bit her lip and nodded softly. In fact, everything was set, John had left and Sherlock was about to die. Or at least to everyone else he was. Sherlock would be heading to the roof now. People tended to underestimate her a lot of the time. The one thing she would refuse to do, was tell Sherlock that she wanted to say goodbye. She didn't think she deserved that. For heavens sake she turned against Sherlock. Molly, John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson could never do that. "Olivia." Molly murmured before she could rush out as she looked at her for a moment as she sighed. Olivia was gone before Molly could finish her sentence.


Molly had made up her mind. She didn't like that this woman thought she could fix the things she messed up. Sherlock had to die now because of some of her actions. Sighing gently as she sat down at her window, pulling the tab as she looked out, hearing a gunshot from the roof as she frowned. Perhaps things had gone awry. Unlikely though, Sherlock and her had come up with almost every contingency.


Molly watched at John stepped out of her car, and she frowned softly. This was going to be very hard on him. She would be there for him as much as he would allow, she would try to protect John while Sherlock could not. Her eyes landed on John from the window, watching him for a minute as she took a deep breath. Letting the plan fall just as Sherlock's body did. She watched John run towards the side walk and turned. Everything had worked. Sherlock Holmes was dead. And John had lost his best friend in a mere five seconds.


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Molly, as with the rest of Sherlock's friends and intermediate family attended the funeral. She was the only one who knew. Who really knew. Not even Mycroft knew. She stood close to John as they stared at the tombstone of their friend for a few minutes as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Looking at John as he put on a brave face. She had seen that face before. It was the exact look Sherlock had when he thought John wasn't looking. Except John knew Sherlock wasn't looking, nor would he ever again. "What do you need?" She asked looking into John's eyes as she saw them starting to glimmer with tears, and she felt her own tear up. John looked at the tombstone defeated.


"Him."

 

[RealisticFantasy]

A gunshot. That wasn't part of the plan. Olivia is forced to back up to try to get a better view, a taxi pulling behind her and out popping John. Of course, they were both far too distracted to be bothered with anything around them, let alone each other. He eyes never let the man on top of the building and her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she couldn't hear anything else. She was entirely numb, unable to do much else than stare. Every fiber of her being hoping and willing and wishing that somehow Sherlock could find a way out of this, that she would have a chance to reconcile what she was forced to say.


Her heart stopped the instant she saw him jump and everything happened in slow motion. John and her both cried out in unison, "Sherlock!" This was it. The solution to the final problem. Olivia realized that she was at Sherlock's side, but she didn't quite remember running over. Her mind was an absolute blank as she tried to push through the small crowd forming around him. He had to be okay. He had to. He was Sherlock Holmes.


This was it. There was nothing more than could be done. Some paramedics picked up his body and she watched them wheel him away. Did she actually play a part it this? If she hadn't said what she did, would he still be alive? Her knees buckle at the thought that she could be to blame and someone helps her back to her feet. The sky darkened and rain began to fall as her gaze shifted to the only other person still standing nearby.


"John..."




Olivia hadn't expected them to forgive her. It was a battle between her word and Sherlock's fate. Being told she couldn't stay in 221C was definitely heartbreaking but the worst was when she was told that she wasn't wanted at his funeral. That didn't stop her from attending, of course, at a respectable distance. Regardless of the way that her ex-neighbors felt about her, she was still going to say her peace. She wanted to be part of the friends and family, to comfort and be comforted. But, that was impossible now. She watches everyone mourn, holding a bouquet that she planned on leaving at his grave after everyone left.

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

When Olivia had called his name as he watched his friend being pushed around the corner into the hospital, he froze. His eyes turning to look at hers as pure sorrow and anger formed in his expression at her. "You did this." He whispered and moved away from her to where they had pushed him off to. Running away from the woman that had destroyed their lives.


John was destroyed. His friend. His best friend. Had taken his life in order to protect him. He was barely able to manage at the funeral. When Molly was standing with him, he felt better. Like he wasn't doing this alone. Like he didn't have to face packing up Sherlock's things. Or have to face the people around him that had been cause for his death. But she left. Everyone left. Mrs. Hudson waited in the taxi as John stared at the tombstone. Finally able to get out what he needed to. John was distraught. How could he keep living after this? What was he going to do? He felt empty.


John didn't feel any remorse for not letting Olivia attend the funeral in which they spoke, and the burial. Sure, she could visit him once they had all left. But he wanted to make sure she knew she would never be forgiven. As John finally left, he saw her off to the side, watching him as he watched her for a minute. Thinking about going to speak with her, tell her that she'd done enough. That she didn't need to ruin his funeral as well, but instead, he went to the car and sat with Mrs. Hudson. Contemplating if he should remove her flowers once she had laid them down. Why would she want to come and further ruin the day? She already had to see Mrs. Hudson later to pay her final rent and get the last of her belongings out of the flat.


Instead of removing the flowers, John was taken to his new flat, and Mrs. Hudson returned to Baker Street as she sat, staring at the door as she waited for Olivia. It was depressingly quiet. It was heart breaking. She wanted the shouting, and the gun shots, and the body parts in her fridge and she wanted the footsteps on the stairs, and she wanted checking up on her boys. And she wanted Sherlock.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

She saw John glance over in her direction so she refocuses her gaze on the ground. She had hoped she would go unnoticed because the last thing she needed was John shouting at her. Shouting had lost its appeal. It was shouting over stupid things. It wasn't shouting because you cared. It was shouting because you were angry, the kind of shouting you use to cut to deep, to rip and tear at the places where people were the most sensitive. When she lifted her gaze again, the graveyard had cleared. She walks over to Sherlock's shiny new grave slowly.


Kneeling in front of it, she sets the flowers on top of the stone. "I haven't come here to beg for forgiveness or try to justify what I did. I'd like to lead with that. I-I feel so silly talking to a rock." Her eyes started to burn, her vision blurring as the liquid welled up as she tried to force out a not entirely pathetic chuckle. "Um, I want to explain. So, if your ghost or spirit or however this works would give me, uh, just five minutes. Just so I can tell you. I know you hate me. I'm not even going to be kind to myself by throwing a probably in there. John hates me and he's not even dead." She tries to laugh but it just comes out a soft sob.


"Every word I said to you in the phone call was the exact opposite of what I wanted to say. Moriarty, he called me the night after we cooked together and he said that if I didn't comply, he'd - um - he'd blow up a school. A school full of innocent people. He said if I so much as hinted to you or John or Mrs. Hudson or anyone, he'd blow them up. He gave me my script, Sherlock. I read it for them, those people. So they didn't have to die. I tried to tell Molly to help you. I risked hundreds of peoples' lives by doing that. Guess it didn't work anyway then."


She sighs as a few tears roll off her cheeks onto her black dress. "If anything I said had anything to do with... with all this, I'm so sorry. I have never been more sorry in my life. That's all I can say. I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect you to like me. If you were alive, I wouldn't even expect you to talk to me. Really, it's okay that you hate me. I hate me, too..." She sniffles and wipes her eyes.


"I really do miss you."

 

[Kellie Jemmings]

Sherlock's eyes scanned the landscape, he was far enough away that he couldn't hear, but he did watch John leave before Olivia walk up. His nose wrinkled in anger as he left. He knew she wouldn't see him, her back was to him and he was too far away for her to pick him out of the tree line. He sighed softly. Now it was time for some work. Some serious work that would take a lot of planning and even more effort. He had contacted Molly through a burner phone before leaving. Just so she would know where he was. He felt like he owed her a lot, and in reality he did. He owed her so much more than he would ever be able to repay her.


And just like that, he was gone. Without a trace, allowing wounds to heal for some, while others just grew deeper as time passed from overwhelming guilt that was slowly drowning them. Like Anderson for example. He was one person that directly caused Sherlock's need to kill himself. He eventually went insane, because he was trying to come up with a theory for how Sherlock could have survived. Lestrade himself suffered from depression. Though he was good at hiding it from the rest of his friends and co-workers, he had to see a counselor to keep him from doing anything he regretted even more than letting Anderson convince him that Sherlock was anything other than exactly what he had said. Once Sherlock had died, he realized what had happened after John had told him, and was furious at what had happened.


A year passes and everyone seems to be better. Another year passes, and John still struggles with his depression. He manages, and had started dating a new woman. Her name was Mary and he fancied her a lot. Together they lived in a flat, and John went to visit Mrs. Hudson. Sighing to himself as John completed another depressing day. Life was harder without Sherlock, but Mary made it easier. Somewhat.

 

[RealisticFantasy]

After saying everything she felt need to be said, Olivia rises to her feet and brushes off her dress. People said that talking about things made you feel better. Those people were liars. Olivia takes the longest route possible back to Baker Street to pay her final month's rent. She also decides to leave a small sum for "inconveniences," though she didn't think it'd be taken too kindly. She didn't try to chat. Although she was polite and kind, she just wanted to leave. She had already started renting a much smaller and much cheaper apartment in a much worse part of town.


To be honest, she felt like it was a form of self-punishment. She sold any of her things that she didn't have room for. Her blog continued on for a few months after Sherlock's death. For the first she months, she spent a lot of time at Sherlock's grave. An unhealthy amount. There were some nights where she fell asleep, leaning against the stone. She even continued to attempt to stay in contact with John and Mrs. Hudson, whether it was a comment on John's blog or leaving a letter to check up on Mrs. Hudson. There was never any response and she soon put the blog and her efforts on a semi-permanent hiatus. She didn't have time to keep up with either during her other recreational activities. They made the thoughts of Sherlock go away. Any time she wasn't drunk or high, he was all she could think about. He had consumed her mind.


She found a job in a crowded office with cubicles and far too few windows when they hardly cared if you were dead or alive, let alone sober. It was a moderate paycheck that went entirely to ebb away her memories of Sherlock. As the months pass, it all became so routine and commonplace that she couldn't remember a time when it was any different.


(Few new posts on Olivia's blog)