John Watson sat in 221B. It had been two months since Sherlock had –John gulped, choking on his tears. Died, John thought. He felt like someone had just stabbed him in the heart.
John needed to get his mind off of Sherlock, but without getting his mind off of him…
John let his gaze wander around the flat, seeing echoes of Sherlock Holmes everywhere.
Finally, John's gaze rested on Sherlock's laptop. John had always wondered what Sherlock did with it…
John found himself opening to cover and the screen flickering to life.
John cursed silently.
Of course Sherlock would password protect it, just as John did for his own laptop. But Sherlock was brilliant, and decoded John's password in a little more than three seconds. John was not so good at deduction.
John sat, his head rested on his hands, thinking. Suddenly, John had an idea.
He typed in his guess, and John smiled, for the first time in months.
Sherlock's apps popped up, the laptop whirring to life.
The password had been John.