"I lay sobbing on my bed. No one could calm me or stop my tears. I watched as the evil man, who had such a nice voice, revealed his winning hand. How the detective tried to get him to reveal the code that would allow him to walk away with his friends safe. How the evil man killed himself to kill his enemy. The assassins, ready to murder his friends. One friend tried to help him, but the detective told him lies. The tears were so thick that I could barely make out the detective's leap off the hospital roof. To save his friends, he died to save his friends, the people he cared about. The detective had always said that he wasn't a hero.
"But that was something a hero would do.
"A hero like Sherlock Holmes.
"They all thought he was a fraud. The newspapers, the reporters. They all screamed it out, fraud, fake... Liar.
"He had a beautiful grave, one that fit him. Dark, black stone, beautiful nonetheless, a wonderful representation of his soul. He might've dumped me in a ditch for saying that. Of course, I'd prefer that to talking to a grave.
"Sherlock had a brother, who cared for him, but would never admit it, and three friends in the whole world, who he would've, and did, die for.
"You're all probably wondering why I'm here, how I know Sherlock. Well, I don't know him personally. But I know a lot about him. After Mycroft and Moriarty, I probably know him the best."
The red-head with the golden eyes smiled.
"I saw the whole thing. Sherlock's death, all of it." She pulled out a computer disk and tossed it to Lestrade. "It's all there. If you want to check it out, Google 'Richard Brook.' Just about all the hits will lead to the truth." She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down one cheek.
"Please, clear his name. Maybe even deny his words, and make him a hero." She wiped away the tear and walked down the aisle.
"Good-bye Watson. We'll see each other again." She said as she left.
One month later, the newspapers printed a retraction of all the negative things they'd said about Sherlock Holmes.
And they made him out as a hero.
"There are no such things as heroes Lily." Said a man reading a paper. BloodLily smiled.
"Whatever you say Sherlock."
BloodLily: I finished the series, so, after bawling my eyes out between three minutes on the rooftop and the end where they show Sherlock, I wrote this. (My mom was chagrined when she found out I was crying over a TV show.) This is what I would've done, had my persona been there. A WhoLock Fic may follow! ;D