DON'T UNDERSTAND? PM ME! It's a story about "the fandom who waited" about us after the fall. DFTBA ;)

She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't.

She saw it happen, she was shocked at first, she didn't know what to do. But then, two days later, found her cheeks were still wet from tears she hadn't felt, her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her voice croaky from the wails and sobs that had choked her, shook her frame and had started to destroy her.

She had cried for hours on end, day after day, and the times when she couldn't cry, the clouds would open, and cry for her. Or she would simply shout, kick, scream at anyone, anyone who tried to tell her it wasn't real, he wasn't real, it was okay.

Because it wasn't was it? She knew, but did anyone else? Would anyone else believe her?

It was sad, thinking that she was the only one, she couldn't be? But she might be the only one who was feeling like this, was she? If so, then, why? If not then, where was everyone else?

Were they dying inside too? Did they want to find her as much as she wanted to find them? She questioned herself this everyday. What made it worse was that everything reminded her of him, her long black coat she had bought, the human skull in science, purple shirts and white bed sheets.

She needed to find them. She had to!

She was a good student in school, never did anything wrong, a 'model student', but, one rainy Monday morning, walking mechanically down the silent, cold art hall, footsteps echoing on the hard ground, something caught her eye. Something inside her, something that hadn't died, that had held on, tugged her a few steps back, recognising the last two words, a burst of the old excitement turned her to stare at the white wall. The white wall that had been written on.

Five small words, five small words that melted her inside. That warmed her with hope.

I believe in Sherlock Holmes.

She smiled slightly; there was someone else, in her school! Her town! Her eyes lit up and she pulled her blackberry out of her pocket (she had bought it because it was the same one that he had used) and held it up, taking a picture.

She wanted to meet this person, she needed to! But how? There were over 1000 students in this school! She frowned at the writing, remembering something that he had said, that a book had written inside.

When a man writes on a wall, his instincts lead him to write about the level of his own eyes

The writing was just a little higher than her own eyes, so that could only mean someone in year 11, her year, or one of the taller year 10's.

She frowned, this might take longer than she had thought, but she was determined, she was not going to give up. He didn't, so why should she?

Striding confidently down the white hall, she smiled.

"The game, Mr Holmes, is on"

A.N okay, so did you manage to get through that without an "OMLV" (oh my lord voldemort) or a WTF (?) if so hen I congratulate you, if not, I'll explain.

This is a story about us, for us (sherlockians) and is possibly going to go deeper. Its about us after the fall (cry) and the things we will do for, because of Sherlock, awesomely co-incidental friendship about to happen here so stay tuned!

p.s any questions, PM ME!