A/N: Okay, so there was this gifset I made for an elemental!superwholock AU for Tumblr user superwholockthecomic's fanwork Friday thing a long while ago, so I finally got around to writing a short little thing for it.

(Elemental Powers: Doctor=Air, Cas=Water, Sam=Plants, Dean=Fire, John=Stone, Sherlock=Ice.)

Enjoy!

They crowded over the gravestone, reading for the hundredth—maybe thousandth—time the name of their old friend. No one said anything during that time, just moment of silence for the consulting detective.

The Doctor was, of course, the most noticeable with guilt. The wind blew around them with force but then gradually faded into gentleness—his wind, forceful, as if despising himself for not somehow saving his friend, and gentle, almost like he was apologizing as if it was somehow his fault. Finally, he gave his condolences to John, and the Doctor left with a breeze in his wake.

The soft drizzle that fell over their heads was a result of Castiel's grief. His face was contorted in pain, so much that it seemed he would've cried if he were human. Sam had let a few colorful flowers grow over the grave but hung his head low. Dean let a spark fly in honor of the great detective as he snapped his fingers, muttering words along the lines of, "You stupid son of a bitch," and, "You could've at least told us why."

They all gave words of comfort to John, and Castiel promised to check in from time to time. John only nodded as they left.

And then, when he was certain that he was alone, John gave a little speech to is friend's grave. He had made the gravestone and carved the name onto it, and now as he spoke, the stone seemed to quiver at his voice.

Soon John's voice faded as well as the hope that his best friend would just appear and tell him that it was fake, that his death wasn't real and he was very much alive. Eventually he gave a salute to his friend and marched off, tears threatening to fall but they just wouldn't come.

On the other side of the graveyard, the man of ice stood watching. A fern-like pattern appeared across the tree he stood under spreading from the trunk all the way to the lower branches. And as his friend left he turned away as well.

For a moment, Sherlock Holmes wondered if he would be back in London soon.