Utterly unoriginal title, I know! But in all honesty, I couldn't think of anything else.
First time writing a crossover, so yeah, enjoy!
I own nothing.
England loved his people. Every single one of them. He loved them despite any error they may have had, be them big or small. He loved them all, be them good or bad. Whatever good deed they did, made him proud; whatever bad deed they did, made him embarrassed.
As said before, he loved them all and some more than others. One of these were Sherlock Holmes; a human, who exceeded all expectations despite the lack of affection. He continued to solve selective cases, which Scotland Yard could only dream of ever solving. He had also, together with his lazy as hell brother, helped out the government a few times. It only made it much better that he was the only existing consulting detective in the world. But to every good thing there always had to be a bad; to outbalance the universe, there just had to be a crime lord wandering about in the heart of England.
Professor James Moriarty had continuously caused him trouble, that is, if Sherlock Holmes hadn't stopped the evil genius at every turn.
The last time had been when the Professor had had the Mona Lisa stolen and planned to sell copies to interested buyers from all over the world.
England hadn't quite approved with who Holmes had associated himself with, but looking at the bright side, his eternal rival would now owe him big time.
England had never met neither men or shown any official support, because involving himself might just end with getting himself exposed.
It was only when he heard the word about Sherlock Holmes having three attempts on his life, all in one morning, that he demanded to have updates every hour about Holmes's whereabouts.
He followed the news about Holmes's and Dr. Watson's "escape" to Switzerland after having stopped in Canterbury, while leading the Professor and his followers right into hands of the police.
Shortly after, he heard the official word from Mycroft Holmes, that the Professor had escaped the authorities and followed Holmes and Watson to the Continent.
He decided, quite reluctantly, to send a letter to Switzerland and "kindly" ask him to look out for two English gentlemen, who should be about Meiringen ("And for God's sake, don't let it be one of those "shoot-first-ask-questions-never" situations, alright?!")
A few days later he heard about the tragic outcome to the events in Switzerland. He had never really dared imagine what could have happened, but it would seem that his unconscious fears may have proven true.
There was not long after held a ceremony to the memory of Sherlock Holmes. Since no body was found, they couldn't hold a proper funeral. There was, surprisingly enough, so many people attending that most had to stand up.
England, who attended as well, was one of those lucky enough to get a sitting spot. But... for some reason or other, he didn't feel so sad as he had imagined himself. Not long after he had gotten the news had he felt that there was something wrong. True, he felt a loss, but... it was something that needed not to mourn too much about.
He could still feel Sherlock Holmes's heartbeat; he could feel he was alive; he knew he was alive.
After thinking it over, England shook his head at himself; it just wasn't possible.
Three years later England would figure out just how wrong he was.
Wow. It feels so rushed.
Okay, umm, review and tell me what you think! :D
And if you spot any grammatical mistakes, then please notify me. I am here to learn!