This is an old, old fic of mine. One that I was going to post forever ago and due to a plethora of issues, hadn't gotten around to actually, you know, posting it. Now I'm off to do a cheesy sappy old rant (hi, sentiment), so you can skip ahead to the actual fic portion if you want. But do know that this fic is dedicated to someone for a very, very good reason.

Today I received news that one of my earliest Internet friends, haveacreamteaonme, died. I got this news two months late. And it broke my heart. It fucking broke my heart. I felt horribly useless and stupid and rather disgusted by the fact that I had been such an arse and not checked her Tumblr to see if something was wrong sooner; that I hadn't sent my consolations to her family; that I hadn't talked to her for almost two months before this tragedy came to pass.

This woman. I can't even go into it. Honestly, every single person that reads and reviews my stuff or just reads or just PMs me or just ANYTHING is precious to me, and she was no exception. She started leaving me reviews during a bit of my life where my perception of everything was really quite colossally skewed, where I was doubting everything and making some terrible choices and doing some incredibly stupid things. She reassured me that someone was out there reading my stuff and that they thought I was doing a good job of it. For shy, naïve past version of me? That meant a lot.

She wrote one of the most incredible fics I've ever read. She took it down because she thought it was taking up too much of her life, and that, I think, was a tragedy in its own right. Because she was truly one of the most phenomenal writers I'd ever seen. I had no idea she was so ill; we just carried on shrieking over crack and Sherlock and all things wonderful. She never mentioned it. Not. Once.

I'm not going to say I knew her well because I didn't. We never wrote huge in depth messages to each other, not really, and we only talked for about four months. But I owe my writing, my love of Sherlock, and very possibly my existence to her. I was so depressed – still am, but it's okay now – and she was the first person I talked to that truly helped me. Simply because SHE WAS LIVING. She was a person living their life and when you are depressed like that, there is nothing (I think) that gives you more hope than seeing someone just live their life.

I have no idea what her real name was, where she lived, what her favorite color was, or anything like that. All I know is that haveacreamteaonme died of cancer two months ago. She was 26. She was one of the most passionate fangirls I've ever met, and she was one of the few people I've met that truly seemed happy. As odd and ironic as that may sound.

So after that long, sappy rant that is actually longer than the story I have written out for you guys, I dedicate this fic entirely and wholly to her. Rest in peace, luv. You lived in your lifetime. And not many people can say that.