Author's Note: Hey, everybody! Hope you've all had a good day!
Without further ado...
"I, Elizabeth Holmes, with sound mind and sound body do write the following will.
See, Dad, this looks official. But really this is just some things I'd like to be done if I die young. I was thinking about how dangerous the work we do can be, so I figured I would write this little piece up.
Well, so I'm dead... Or dying, I guess. So on to business.
No one is allowed to wear black to my funeral. (Except your coat, Dad.) I want everyone to be in blue. I always loved that color.
The money that was supposed to go to me (and I know it was a lot) I want to be put to good use. Build a school. Give it to the army. I don't really care, just make something good from it.
On my gravestone, I would like inscribed: My life was not empty. Now Heaven waits for me. Yes, I know it is from Kansas. Sue me, I love that song.
The flowers placed on my coffin must be white roses.
Play the CD labeled Death Mix in the background at my Wake. It contains the following songs:
Blaze of Glory by Bon Jovi
Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas
Wings by Hurts
Hero by Chad Kroeger
100 Years by Five for Fighting
Immortals by Fall Out Boy
Somebody to Die For by Hurts
Wheel in the Sky by Journey
Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
Secrets by OneRepublic
Team by Lorde
Lullaby by Nickelback
Strong by One Direction
Let Her Go by Passenger
I Lived by OneRepublic
Glitter in the Air by P!nk
Elastic Heart by Sia
Airplanes by 5 Seconds of Summer
Catch Fire by 5 Seconds of Summer
San Francisco by 5 Seconds of Summer
I guess I should write a little something for everyone.
Alright.
Mrs. Hudson, thank you for being so sweet to me. I really appreciated how you always seemed to have a pot of coffee made just when I needed it. You were always there when I wanted to talk, and you tried your best to make me into a proper girl. Though it never worked, I still appreciated the thought.
Molly, thanks for being my best girl. Though I'm thirteen years your junior, you never treated me as such. You regarded me as a trusted friend, and I want you to know that I saw you the same way. Thanks for the great advice and the access to the cadavers.
Lestrade, thanks for allowing me to work your cases. Even though you could have been sued to high heaven for letting a kid contaminate your crime scene, you still wanted me there. I will always be grateful for how you defended me against your less savory subordinates.
Mycroft, thank you for including me in the classified goings-on of the British Government. Instead of making sure that no important ambassador knew we were related, you showed me off. I enjoyed every case you and I worked together. I hope that I was good company.
John, thank you for being like a second father to me. You were the one who made sure that I remembered to eat. You were my confidante, and for that I was always grateful. I think you knew more of my secrets than even I did. I looked up to you. I wanted to be an army doctor like you, even though you told me that you would never allow me to be in the army. I realized that you were only afraid that I would get hurt, not that you thought that I couldn't do it.
Dad, thank you for being my dad. I owe you everything. You made me who I am today, and I'm proud to call myself your daughter. I wanted to be just like you. I worked hard to be clever, and I hope that I didn't disappoint you in any way. I love you so much. I loved working cases with you. Even if I died at the barrel of a gun or at the business end of a blade, I never regretted a moment. You showed me the thrill of the chase and got me addicted. I want you to know that whatever happened to me wasn't your fault. It never was. I chose my path, and I never looked back. I couldn't resist the call of the Work. I'm too much like you.
Lastly, I want everyone to know that I was honored to know them. I had a great, adventurous life. I wouldn't have changed a thing.
Love,
Elizabeth Angelica Holmes "
John quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He hadn't even been aware that they had fallen. Grasping the letter, John walked downstairs. He held it out to Sherlock, who was thinking on the couch.
"Not now, John," Sherlock didn't open his eyes. "I'm busy."
"Sherlock," John's voice broke. Sherlock's eyes flew open immediately.
"What? What is it?" Sherlock demanded. John just held out the letter, resisting another flow of tears. Sherlock snatched up the letter and read it rapidly.
John watched as Sherlock absorbed his daughter's moving words.
"It wasn't your fault, Sherlock," John said.
Sherlock gazed up at John, tears evident in his icy eyes. "This was written three years ago, when she was fifteen. That is evident by her handwriting and use of language. She took her time writing it. She put thought into it."
John sat down heavily, overwhelmed.
That evening, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, and Mycroft came to the flat. A CD played in the background. It was called Death Mix.
The next morning everyone wore blue. White roses were lovingly placed. A gravestone was inscribed. Construction began on a school in Africa.
At the funeral of Elizabeth Holmes, her killer Maxwell Wright was arrested. He was charged with the murders of four young girls, including a consulting detective's daughter.
Lestrade slapped the handcuffs onto Wright as he boldly stepped up to place a white rose on the coffin.
The coffin that opened to reveal Elizabeth Holmes, alive and well.