Lestrade stands in the middle of the graveyard and looks at the black tombstone before him in silence. The sky is dull and grey, much like Lestrade's mood as of late. Today is the one month anniversary of Sherlock's burial, and this would be the first time that the Detective Inspector has been to see the grave of his consulting detective. The whiskey is enough to drive away most of the pain he is feeling, and his work dulls some of the rest. Today is the first day he's been sober since the day they put Sherlock to rest. Tears form in the detective inspector's eyes.
"I remember you asking me once… after Sally told you what I had responded with when she told me that there'd be a break in… I remember you asking me what my division was…" Lestrade stops here and laughs brokenly. The tears start to fall and soon, he's sobbing, knelt beside Sherlock's tombstone. "You're my d-division, Sherlock Holmes. Damn you… you always will be… I don't believe a w-word of it. Of wh-what the newspapers say. I believe in you, Sherlock. I'll always believe in you."
Lestrade stands and takes a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes before he gives the grave one last look and goes back to his cab.
