A/N: Things pop into my head late at night. What can I say? *shrugs*


John Watson was a simple man, with simple desires and simple needs. He needed excitement, food, tea, something to do to relax. He liked to laugh at funny things, and occasionally when Sherlock was out, cry over sad things. Some things, he couldn't categorize. So when the comment popped up on his blog, under the Hounds of Baskerville write-up, he simply frowned at the absurdity of it. It was from someone called the-crowned-one, but he didn't really care enough to ask what it meant. The quote was: "A big word, and so sad. Alive." "Alive isn't sad." "It's sad when it's over." After a minute or two, he shrugged and kept scrolling, responding snarkily to a few comments from Sherlock and reminding Harry not to post while drunk. Then he closed his laptop and went to shower.

And now here he stands in the graveyard, months later, staring down at Sherlock's grave, listening to Mrs. Hudson's retreating footsteps, that day at Bart's playing over and over through his head, particularly the fall. Sherlock falling, and with it, all the excitement in his life, the anticipation, the joys and sorrows. He blinked, hard, and thought back on that random quote which had appeared on his blog months ago- a Doctor Who quote, of all things, he'd eventually looked it up. And he decided that, maybe 'alive' wasn't such a sad word after all. But here, now, in his life- there was a word, so big and so sad. Sherlock. Sherlock, sad when he's over. Sherlock made him alive again, and in the end that's what mattered. John swallowed and forced the thought away.

"Ahm. You told me once that you weren't a hero. There were times..."


A/N: I never claimed it would be good. Hope you enjoyed! Brit-pick and reviews welcome, I didn't really edit at all. XD