Six months have pased by since my best friend's... Sherlock death. Six months of an empetiness that I've lived with since that tragic day. I can't stop blaming myself for his death. For not being there to save him.

Now I'm trying to move on. I work as a doctor and I still live in 221 B - Barker Street. Even after all these time, I haven't found courage to go near Sherlock's old room. I had to ask for Mrs. Hudson to move his things from there. Now they are stored in the loft. But I still think that some day he will leave that door and ask were the hell are his stuff or maybe that some day I will come home and find him in our kitchen, messing with his things or playing violin.

I've though about moving from 221 B, but I've missed the courage to do so. It's like if I stay here means he is not death. I guess I'm probably just torturing myself.

It's nearly September now and Mrs. Hudson's niece is moving to the room that belonged to Sherlock. She arrives today and I'm supposed to give her the keys for her room since Mrs. Hudson won't be here to welcome her because of some personal matters.

It's already midday when the door bell rang. I run down the stairs and open the door. Standing there is a beautiful girl with blue eyes, curled brown hair and as tall has myself. For a moment she reminded me of Sherlock. But soon she spoke, getting my attention back from my thoughts.

"Hi! I'm Christine, Mrs. Hudson's niece. You must be Doctor Watson".

"Hi… Yes, call me John. I live in the room up from yours and I will be your flat mate. How was the trip?"

"It was quite okay! I slept most of the way". By this time we were already climbing the stairs to the flat.

"You must be hungry. I was about to have lunch, would you like to join me?"

"Yes." She paused. As we were already in the flat, she settled her bags and hesitant, asked:

"Look, are we the only one's living here besides Mrs. Hudson?"

"Well… yes." It was hard to say it. In my mind I still lived with Sherlock…

"Oh… But there used to be a man living here, right?"

"Why?…" I was somehow surprised that her face torned sad when I said I was alone there. Mrs. Hudson told me that she used to come here on her holidays. Perhaps she is asking about Sherlock. But she should already now what happened…

"Someone… Probably you meet him.."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes. How can he doesn't live here? I just saw him…"

"What?! That's impossible!" I had to control myself not to jump off of the floor. It's impossible… Oh no… Of course it's possible, it's Sherlock!

"Where… How… He's dead!" I could tell that I was sallow by the mirror above the fire place.

"Oh…" Now she looked at me with a confused face. "That's why he hid the minute I saw him. But I can assure you that was him.."

"Where? Where did you saw him?"

She was about to answer me when she looked behind me and smiled.

Then a familiar voice said: "I screwed up, didn't I?"