Harry buys Sally clothes regularly; she insists she has the superior fashion sense and she's sick of Sally wearing clothes that wash out her bold features. Sally, for her part, was never even aware she had features that could be described as "bold."

They're both doing well. Harry's been sober for the entire time she's with Sally, nearing two years now. She still puts in regular hours at the pub, but her illustrations are being published in newspapers and magazines as a freelance artist. She's been going to several high-class events and bringing Sally with her, proudly introducing her to everyone.

Sally doesn't think it's a big deal when Harry throws a deep necked formal black gown and barks, "Get ready; I've got a surprise."

Grumbling the entire time that she doesn't like surprises, Sally still puts it on and has to admit it looks good on her. She compliantly gets in the car when Harry announces they're leaving. Sally studies her girlfriend; she looks more cheery than usual, wearing a bit more makeup and expensive jewelry.

Where are we going?

They stop at an event hall. Harry links arms and they walk into the building together. Inside, there's a second door that a butler holds open for them. Sally instantly freezes when she spots the banner draped over an entire wall reading:

JOHN AND MARY
ENGAGEMENT PARTY.

Oh, god, she thinks, no.

Harry hardly notice when Sally drops her arms, busy as she is sweeping into the noise and crowd, greeting people and shaking hands. They meet at the far end, toward the bar, where Harry gives her a little push toward the stage and says, "Aren't you going to give the happy couple the honor of shaking your hand?"

Sally manages to laugh and takes a few tottering steps forward. Harry only watches for a few seconds, but she has other things at the forefront of her mind, like her brother's ring which seems to have been misplaced.

John is smiling wide when she finally spots him. He's accepting congratulations and sipping wine, the grin on his face a true marvel. Her heart breaks and mends in that one blow. Would he have been this happy with Sherlock alive? Would he have been even happier?

Sally waits until John is carried to the side by one of his friends and she takes the chance to talk to Mary. She's even more beautiful in person than in the photographs. She's a gracious and gentle woman.

Sally says, "I wish you both have a happy life together."

Mary smiles and turns reflexively to seek out John, answering, "We will."

Sally spends the rest of the evening hiding out with the catering staff behind the bar. Thankfully, Harry's too busy with orchestrating the affair to notice. She's finding rings, entertaining guests, and finally leading the clap when the rings are exchanged.

As the function is winding down and the last few dances have died down into background noises, Harry comes and finds Sally clutching a nearly empty bottle of wine. She frowns but doesn't comment on the bottle, only says, "I'm sorry I've been too busy to show you around. But John mentioned he hadn't seen my girlfriend yet."

"Yeah, er, I talked to Mary but John was busy at the time."

"It's been longer than two years. You can do this," Harry says softly. She kisses Sally lightly and adds, "It's alright if you don't want to. We can just go home."

"No- we'll do what you want," Sally asserts, the alcohol lending her bravery that would probably flee at the time she needed it most.

"Well, the last guests are already gone, so shall we?"

Sally clumsily gets to her feet. Harry takes her hand and pulls her to where John and Mary are sitting for the first time that night. Mary's taken her heels off, John's tie is loosened. They look tired but happy, laughing at some private joke.

"John- you finally get to meet my lady," Harry declares with unrestrained excitement in her voice.

"Oh, yes!" John looks up. His expression changes the second he lays eyes on her.

"Hi, John," Sally greets him, willing not to let her eyes falter away.

"Sally Donovan," he says flatly. His eyes slide to his sister. "You're dating Detective Sally Donovan."

"Isn't it fantastic? You already know each other."

"Know each other? She's the reason Sherlock was arrested!" John hisses angrily.

"John!" Mary utters anxiously, her hand on his shoulder.

He shakes her hand off and stands. He's the exact height as Sally is, leaning into her face. "It was you, with your insults and suspicions!"

"John! How dare you?" This time, it's Harry who steps between them, both hands on John's chest to push him back. "She didn't do anything!"

"DO ANYTHING?" He demands indignantly.

"Stop it!" Harry screams, those tiny lungs producing sound loud enough to echo through the hall.

"She did EVERYTHING!" John bellows in return. He stares at his sister for a moment before the anger on his face subsides into a different expression. This is the John that Sally is afraid of. The rational soldier who stands perfectly calm and composed in the face of a raging storm. This version of John who has a catastrophic smile on his face and says, "You don't know, do you, Harry? She hasn't told you."

"Told me? Told me what?" Harry turns to Sally. "Told me what?"

"Don't do this," Sally warns John, but it's too late.

"Told me what?" Harry repeats with a deadly fury.

Sally refuses to meet Harry's gaze, instead telling the floor between them the truth she has tried to bury inside her for years, the truth she was in denial about: "I was the one who made the official complaint to the Superintendent about Sherlock."

"No," Harry chokes on the syllable. She seems to crumple in on herself.

"Harry…" Sally and John say at the same time, both reaching for the woman standing between them.

Harry flinches away from both of them, shaking her head. "No!" She yells, turning and running behind her, out the hall and building.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" John curses. He turns to Mary and quickly says, "I'll be right back."

Just before he starts running behind his little sister, he turns to give Sally a look. He doesn't bother saying a single word to her, simply shakes his head in disgust and takes off, as if she isn't even worth wasting breath on.

Sally tries to open her mouth but isn't sure how to make her paralyzed body move again.

Mary is on her phone, saying, "I'll need you to pick me up, I'm not sure when John's going to be back. It's about Harry; she's in a bit of trouble."

Hearing it stated so explicitly spurs Sally into action. She runs to the exit and out of the building. Obviously, Harry's car is gone. Sally doesn't have money for a cab. But she does have the key to Harry's flat. With renewed urgency, Sally kicks off her fancy heels and takes off toward her flat.

By the time she gets there, her muscles are burning with lactic acid and her eyes feel full of grit. She turns the lock but finds the flat empty and dark. She hasn't been home yet. Worried, Sally tries her mobile. She hopes and prays Harry hasn't turned to alcohol. Sally winds up on the couch, hating herself and everything she's done in her life.

The worst part is, she knew this would happen. A moment like this had to arrive eventually. There were no alternatives when you carried something like that around on your conscious, eating away at your soul. Sally had tried to cover it up but even the sweetest perfumes can't cover the stench of her deeds.

Eventually, in the earliest hours of the morning, the doorknob turns and Harry is standing there. Sally can tell immediately that she isn't drunk. She hasn't been crying either. She simply stands there in solidarity.

"I'm sorry?" Sally starts, standing from the sofa.

Before she can go on, Harry says smoothly, "I want the keys to my flat back. Pack up all your things and leave. When you're at work tomorrow, I'll do the same at your place. I'll leave the keys on the front table."

"Please. That was a long time ago. I didn't mean for Sherlock to kill himself. I didn't mean for any of that to happen."

"But it did," Harry retorts icily.

"Harry… I love you. Don't do this. I'll do anything, I swear. I'll make it up to you. I'll never keep another secret… please. You're my only hope," Sally steps closer but Harry takes a step back. "I was nothing before you. You change me; you make me happy to be somebody, to be alive."

"I want you. To get the fuck. Out of my home."

"But I lo-"

"NOW!" Harry spits viciously, holding out her hand.

Sally places the key on her steady palm, steps around Harriet, and leaves. It isn't until she's out on the streets and making her way home barefoot that the tears streak her face with mascara and the wind bites at her beautiful black dress.


Greg Lestrade corners her at the office while she's at the coffee machine, her third already and it was still before lunch break. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Sorry?" Sally stares up at him, wondering if she's really so transparent.

"Come now," he coaxes. "I've known you- what? Fifteen years? Longer?"

She shrugs. "Not a big deal."

"Sally…" Greg pauses. "Talk to me."

"Romance problems," Sally dismisses, trying to swallow back the lump in her throat.

"This mysterious girlfriend of yours, then? What happened?"

"It was Harriet Watson," Sally mutters, prompting Lestrade to lower his face to hear her properly.

At first, the name means nothing to him. He searches his memory. Then she sees the realization dawn on his face as he murmurs, "Harry Watson. John's sister. Oh, fuck. You've been shagging John's sister."

"John got engaged yesterday. He finally met me. I'm not the 'mystery girlfriend' anymore. Actually, I'm not the 'girlfriend' at all."

Greg hugs her while she struggles not to break down. He understands right away and says, "It was your duty, what you did. We discovered Moriarty was the one really responsible. You can't keep doing this to yourself, Sally. It wasn't your fault."

"Tell Harry that," Sally answers, muffled through Greg's shirt.

Greg pulls apart from her, holding her at shoulder length. "I don't think that's what got to Harry. I think the fact that you hid it from her…" he trails off. "Take the rest of the day off. You look like you need the sleep."

"No, I'll stick around. I have work."

"Someone'll handle it. I need my best officer alert and on her best. I'm ordering you to go home, Detective Donovan," Greg commands.

Sally manages to smile, murmuring, "Thank you." She doesn't tell him the real reason she doesn't want to go home; she doesn't want to walk into an empty flat and sleep alone. She goes home anyway. There is a box of her things waiting inside, with her key on it. All the things that belonged to Harry are gone. She was thorough.

Needless to say, Sally doesn't get invited to John's big day.

She spends the wedding night crying into the night and wishing there was a way to change the past.