I have no idea how I managed to write this so quickly and why, but I just felt I had to post it, for the sake of not dying of boredom.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

'Don't be dead.' John blinked away the tears threatening to fall 'Could you do that?'

He stared at the stone in front of him. He shook his head. It couldn't be true. He's Sherlock bloody Holmes! He doesn't just die! John sighed. He stood silent contemplating. Well, that is a lie. He couldn't contemplate anything. He just stared at the grave. He couldn't think of anything. He blinked a couple of times and replayed in his head the last conversation he had with Sherlock. He left his note, by a call phone. And the one person he had called wasn't his brother, mother, father. It was John Hamish Watson. The man the detective had know for a couple of years only.

'Thinking about the good times?' a voice asked from behind John. Usually he would have turned around, but he couldn't care less who was behind him. It could have been Moriarty's ghost for all he cared. But the voice struck him. He knew that voice, but he couldn't quite place it. He turned around to see a black haired woman with a pair of huge sunglasses on and elegant a elegant black dress.

'Remember me, John?' the woman removed her sunglasses and John almost chuckled at the irony. He had said her name, well not actually name, in his head, not two seconds ago. The Woman.

'Aren't you surprised to see me alive, John?' she looked puzzled.

'Sherlock isn't the only smart person, you know.' He wanted to go on, but he realized he talked about Sherlock as if he was still alive.

'Wasn't. Sherlock wasn't' Irene corrected him, almost as if she read his thoughts. John wouldn't have been surprised if she was.

'Why are you here?' John knew it was selfish, but he stayed behind to have some moments alone and she came along to ruin his peace.

'You weren't his only friend, John, regardless of what you might think' she kept her composure, but John saw her glance sadly at the grave. He almost shook his head in disbelief. The nerve on that woman!

'You know, friends don't let other friends think they're dead' John felt as if he was talking to a five-year old.

'You'd be surprised'

After a awkward silence, Irene spoke

'He really loved you, you know' She raised her eyes to meet John's confused ones. Why was she telling him this?

'He saved me from a certain death. I couldn't do the same for him' John did a double take when he saw a tear rolling down the woman's cheek.

'He gave me something to live for.' John decided it wouldn't hurt to talk to her as he was sure she would leave the country.

'I never got to take him to dinner' she whispered as if she only realised that now

'I thought he was heartless for not running to Mrs Hudson's aid when we had been announced she had been shot.' he shuddered at that memory. At least he didn't say anything stupid during their last phone call.

'I thought it was a trap. When a homeless woman came up to me and told me Sherlock Holmes was dead.'

'You were still in England?' John asked incredulously

Irene shook her head

'Romania. The woman was speaking English, though. He sure made a lot of friends'

'So you came all the way here, just to stare at a grave?' John asked her, still surprised at the so called emotionlesswoman's actions

'Yes. But also to make sure you were alright'

John blinked slowly, trying to process

'Why wouldn't I be? And why would you worry about me?'

Irene laughed a humorless laugh

'Don't read too much in my actions, John. He would have wanted you taken care of'

And with that, the Woman, the Dominatrix, Irene Adler, left.

But of course, John couldn't have the luck to be left alone. It was Lestrade's turn to say his goodbyes. The inspector stood silently next to John, both staring at the grave, yet looking as if they didn't see it there, or as if they didn't accept its existence.

John realized then Irene was right. He hadn't been the detective's only friend. Lestrade had known Sherlock longer than John had.

'Do you want some privacy? You know, to say your goodbyes' John Watson found it harder to say those words than anything else he had ever said in his life.

'No' Greg shook his head 'I just came to see it you're alright'

There was no way John Watson was alright. But he couldn't have anybody know that. It was enough Mrs Hudson and Irene saw right through him. He didn't want Greg to see that too.

'Of course I'm alright. I should be asking you that, considering the fact that you have known him longer...' John trailed off, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

'The time has nothing to do with it. To tell you the truth, before you appeared in his life he was like a computer. Didn't bother to think about anybody's feelings, or names for that matter' Lestrade joked, but it did nothing to lift the weight that had been on John's shoulders ever since the fall.

'You made him human, John.' and with that Greg left too, leaving John more angrier than ever. He refused to believe Sherlock had had no feelings before. He was a human being, for God's sake! Not some machine that solved crimes.

All the moments in wich Sherlock had proved to be as human as it gets flashed before John's eyes and with each flashback he was more convinced than ever that Sherlock was the hero the detective had always denied to be. Ever since the beginning John knew from the moment he had laid eyes on the man, the detective was trouble. But Watson wouldn't have had it any other way.