DISCLAIMER: NEO DOES NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS USED IN THIS FICTION, SHE IS ONLY BORROWING THEM

John stepped up to the gravestone as Mrs. Hudson walked away, giving him room to say his very last goodbyes to his best friend.

He tried to hold back the tears as he rocked his feet against the soft grass. He cleared his throat before he began.

"Um… you told me once that you weren't a hero… uh- there were times I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human… human being I have ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie… so, uh… There."

John sighed deeply, glancing over his shoulder again. If he was going to lose his dignity, he'd rather it be lost alone.

He looked back to the black, looming gravestone. It reminded him of Sherlock, in a way. Giant… dark… mysterious… assholeish…

He walked up to the gravestone, and touched the top. It was cold. It was hard.

Lifeless.

But it was the closest thing John had to Sherlock at that moment.

"I was… so alone, and I owe you so much." He said softly, pulling in a tear-laden breath of air. He walked away.

He got to the foot of the grave before he turned back, staring intently at the creature of stone that claimed the name of his best friend.

"No, please… there's just one more thing," he muttered loudly at the shining slab. "One more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock… for me. Don't…" John paused, "Be… dead." John sucked in a shaky breath as his voice broke, slightly losing it. "Would you do that? Just stop it…" he whispered, "stop this."

John lowered his head, quietly sobbing. He straightened, saluting the gravestone before walking away.

He walked up to Mrs. Hudson, feeling cold eyes on his back. Mrs. Hudson turned to him, the tears running freely down her face.

Sherlock was like a son to her, and he always will be.

"Um…" John wiped his eyes and nose before continuing. "I think I'll walk to the hotel… see you tomorrow for coffee?" Mrs. Hudson nodded, hugging John tightly as she walked back to the taxi cab.

John smiled after her.

He turned on his heel and headed for the trees. In under a minute, he was walking on the trail through the cemetery, the living, breathing Sherlock Holmes walking next to him.

John dragged the tears from his eyes, laughing a bit.

"That was quite the performance," Sherlock said, chuckling in his baritone voice. John laughed gleefully.

"I did sell it quite well, didn't I?" Sherlock smirked as they walked off together. "Three more years of this? Sherlock… you're gonna have to start paying me for this!"

"Well, you're the one who's going to be selling the lie that I'm not dead… so you're going to have to be good at it… maybe money would help…?" Sherlock suggested, laughing a bit as John shoved him with his shoulder.

"I'm joking, Sweetcheeks!" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the shorter man, a grin plastered in between his razor-sharp cheekbones. John laughed, almost pushing Sherlock off the trail.

And they walked off together… a duo of liars… set out to save the world. And drink tea.