Wrote this quickly as I want it to be finished so it's quite fast paced. Not watched this episode for a while so quotes are probably not going to be spot on as they are just from what I can remember. Enjoy :)
I don't own Sherlock.
''How long?'' he asked,
''Three months…''
Sherlock scrubbed a hand over his face; it couldn't have been more ill-timed.
''What are we going to do?'' she asked quietly. When she'd told him, the reaction was not what she had been expecting. He was relatively calm, hardly seemed phased by it at all. It was as though she'd told him something utterly irrelevant to him that he wasn't bothered by, you never would have guessed he'd just been told his wife was inconveniently pregnant.
''Nothing'' he replied and she looked at him puzzled, ''- yet. We'll talk about it later just, don't do anything, don't tell anyone,-''
''Wait, where are you going?'' she asked when she saw he was about to put on his coat,
''I've got to go somewhere – actually come with me,'' he paused for a moment whilst tying his scarf securely round his neck, ''wait no, stay here''
He was acting quite strange, stranger than usual by his standards anyway. She'd been preparing what she had to say for ages then he had just swanned into their flat then planned on swanning back out again without so much as an opinion to their situation they had dug themselves in.
''But Sherlock-,''
''We'll talk later'' she couldn't believe he was just dismissing her like this, she'd just told him something important, probably the biggest news of their life and he couldn't even stop to talk to her or even tell her what he thinks.
''What's the matter?'' she asked rather snappily,
''Richard Brooke''
Elizabeth frowned, she'd never heard of said person, ''Who?''
''I don't know, that's what I'm going to find out'' he clapped his gloved hands together and spun round on his heel, fully intending to just leave there and then,
''But what about this'' he didn't face her but knew exactly what she meant – he didn't have time for this!
''I promise we'll discuss it later but for now there's somewhere I really need to go and it can't wait'' and with that he disappeared down the stairs two at a time with his coat swishing by his ankles.
''That was the paramedics,'' John said panicked, ''Mrs Hudson's been shot!''
Sherlock barely blinked, merely continued to think with his fingertips touching together lightly and his feet propped impolitely on one of the counters in the lab, ''you go, I'm staying here…''
John looked as though he'd been slapped before anger bubbled in his voice, ''don't you care?''
''She's just my land lady-,''
''You once almost killed a man for laying a hand on her; you know what – never mind. I'll go and see if she's okay and you stay here, alone.'' He huffed angrily, picking up his jacket as he headed for the door,
''Alone protects me'' Sherlock muttered, still deep in thought,
''No, friends protect you''
Turns out, Mrs Hudson was fine.
''John?''
''Liz!''
John hopped up the stairs to the upper flat with haste, Liz was stood at the top of the stairs looking flustered, ''what are you doing here,'' she asked, ''thought you were with Sherlock?''
''Yeah well,'' John said sharply, ''he's being a bit of a dick at the moment, wanted to be alone''
''Ah…''
''Seriously Liz, and I'm being honest now. I don't know how you put up with that man, he's just… urgh! I'm not even gonna waste my breath on him'' John leant against the wall, thankful of the support. He'd ran all the way from St Barts, unable to get a cab and this was the first opportunity he'd had to catch his breath.
''That bad huh?''
''You've no idea, you know I told him Mrs Hudson had been shot – he didn't so much as bat an eyelid''
''But, Mrs Hudson's downstairs,'' Liz said, ''I've just spoken to her. She's got a builder in, something to do with the electrics I don't know…'' she trailed off, realisation dawning over both their faces. ''who told you she'd been shot?''
John's face seemed to rearrange from confusion to slight understanding in about three seconds, ''the paramedics…''
They both bolted down the stairs and into a cab, Liz managed to pull on her coat in the rush and said a hurried goodbye to Mrs Hudson.
The cab journey to St Barts seemed to take forever and John was repeatedly trying to call Sherlock's phone, with no luck up to now. When he did finally get through, they'd already got out of the cab were both hurrying across the road.
''Sherlock, where are you''
''Go back'' was the stony response,
''What?'' He and Liz continued to dash across the main road, not really paying attention if there was any traffic,
''Go back,'' Sherlock insisted, ''just turn round and walk back the way you came''
''Okay, okay'' John stopped to turn round and Liz followed, confused
''Right, look up, I'm up here. On the roof''
''Wha..'' they both looked up slowly, their eyes travelling up the hospital wall to see Sherlock stood on the edge of the tall building, his long black coat billowing in the wind.
Liz's breath hitched and John felt the presence of her hand on his arm,
''Keep your eyes focussed on me. I can't, I can't come down so we'll just have to do it here'' his voice cracked and John felt the immediate feeling of dread drop in the pit of his stomach.
''Do what? Sherlock what are you talking about?''
''My note'' he said simply, ignoring the tears that tracked down his cheeks, ''it's what they do, isn't it?''
''Your note…'' John breathed and Liz snapped her gaze to him, not quite believing what she had just heard,
''It's all true you know, what they said in the papers-,''
''No, Sherlock'' John shook his head but Sherlock just chucked mirthlessly,
''I'm a fake'' he sniffed
''What's he talking about?'' Liz asked urgently and John just shook his head dejected. On the other end of the phone Sherlock grimaced.
''Look after her John, take care of her for me'' he looked down at his wife, his pregnant wife. He assumed she'd keep it this time. ''Put her on will you''
John did and handed the phone to Liz, she took it quickly and placed it to her ear, ''Sherlock, what are you doing, come down''
''I can't, you see'' he sniffed, ''I thought I told you to stay at home?''
Liz scraped a hand through her hair, it was flying all over the place and getting in the way of her view of him, ''what, so you could chuck yourself off a building?''
''I'm sorry Elizabeth''
''No'' she almost cried, ''don't do this to me, you come down here – now Sherlock''
He laughed despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, ''this is goodbye''
Her heart was hammering in her chest now, pounding against her ribs, ''stop it!''
''There's something I didn't tell you very often,'' he carried on, ''something I should have said every day from the moment I met you'' he stopped and smiled down at her tearfully, ''I love you so much''
''Don't…''
''I've never stopped loving you, don't forget me will you?''
''As if I could'' she said quietly and realised that he really wasn't going to come down... Well not safely anyhow. ''I love you'' she chocked and John gulped beside her. This really was it.
Sherlock smiled one last time before dropping the phone down beside him and took a deep breath. On the street, Liz still held John's mobile to her ear with a trembling hand and held on to John's arm with the other and they watched in dread as Sherlock opened his arms and fell forwards.
He hit the floor in a matter of seconds. Liz screamed as his body slammed into the pavement with a sickening crack, she registered John's arms slip round her waist tightly as her knees threatened to give way.
John lunged forwards, dragging Liz by the hand as he did to the body of his friend. His best friend.
When they reached him (and after John being hit by a cyclist) it was the most heart stopping sight. Sherlock lay there, limbs bent at odd angles, face down and blood pooling around him – staining the dull concrete pavement a rusty crimson colour.
People started gathering round, all gasping and calling for help, some of them even had their mobiles out. They pushed their way through, not bothering to say sorry to those who they bumped into.
''Oh…''
''God, no…''
Liz felt someone grab her and pull her back, she looked round and apparently the same had happened to John whose legs seemed to have given way and he was on the floor. ''he's my friend, please, I'm a doctor'' she heard him say but when she tried to speak the words just wouldn't come. She allowed herself to be lowered to the floor before she collapsed, the wetness from the pavement soaking through her dark jeans at the knees.
Someone turned him over and she clapped a hand to her mouth as she gasped a sob. His grey eyes were wide and pale – empty and his thick brown hair was plastered to his face with blood.
She tried to get closer, to touch him but she couldn't. The paramedics rushed from the hospital with a stretcher, they hurriedly picked him up and rushed back inside, people followed them and still gathered round.
Liz knelt still on the floor, all she could see what his black coat and pale skin as they took her husband away.
John looked as though he was about to vomit, he too was knelt on the floor, looking pasty and withdrawn.
It started to rain.
''You'll get through this, my dear''
She said nothing, only sobbed into Mycroft's shoulder. They'd never once made physical contact on such a level but when he came to visit her that evening, the first thing he did was prop his umbrella against the wall and embrace her.
They'd stood there for a while now, she's blurted out that she was pregnant whilst he just patted her back somewhat uneasily ''oh god…'' she chocked, the wetness from her tears dampening her brother-in-law's expensive suit jacket.
''You'll cope'' he hushed, ''I know you Elizabeth, you're strong minded''
She straightened in his arms and looked up at him through puffy eyes ''and what about this child? It's going to grow up without a father and look at me, I'm hardly parent material myself''
''You're going to keep this one then'' he asked seriously and she nodded. How could she not? The one last thing she had of Sherlock that really meant something, that was alive.
She sniffed and pulled back, Mycroft was right; apparently a good cry was what she needed. Damn hormones.
''Have you decided what you're going to do?''
''No,'' she admitted, ''I don't know where to start, when I came back to the flat…'' she trailed off and swallowed hard, ''there's just so much that belongs to him''
Mycroft nodded once in understanding, ''have you thought anything about the funeral at all?''
The funeral. Oh god. The funeral. It just makes it seem so… official. Sherlock Holmes – officially deceased.
He took the silence as a no, ''I'm sure we can arrange something together''
She wiped her eyes hastily on her cardigan sleeve, ''thankyou but-,''
''No buts'' he insisted. Liz knew Sherlock wouldn't approve of Mycroft helping with his funeral, she could imagine him now, ''well of course he would to piss me off'' she couldn't help but chuckle at that. Although she'd never actually hear him say it.
Liz straightened her collar in the mirror; she wore a smart black, just above the knee length dress with a pair of plain black heels, black tights and long-ish charcoal coat. The only thing that wasn't black or grey was her nail varnish which was a change from its normal customary red, instead a soft natural pink.
Her dark hair was pinned up and out of the way, she couldn't be bothered with it. The stress of the funeral paired with the pregnancy symptoms which had started taking their toll had made her tired and unwell. Nearing her fifth month of pregnancy she now had a round bump, quite noticeable but then to the people that didn't know, they might just assume that she'd put weight on and seen as only Mycroft, John and Mrs Hudson knew, that left a lot of people to guess whether she was pregnant or just fat.
She let out a long sigh; in the reflection of the mirror she could see the opposite wall where Sherlock would put bullets through when he was bored – Mrs Hudson never did add it to the rent. Then of course there was the skull, Liz never liked it much but she wouldn't chuck it away – perhaps she'd hide it. Although she'd never tell John it was for sentimental value, nothing must register on an emotional scale. God she was even thinking like him…
As soon as the funeral was over and done with and Sherlock's belongings had been sorted through, she would move out. Get a new flat, start a fresh. 221 held too many memories, good and bad. Of course she'll have the support of John, Mycroft, even Mrs Hudson but she wanted to do this by herself – she wasn't helpless.
''You ready?'' John asked from somewhere behind her, she turned round, Mrs Hudson was stood in the doorway looking thoroughly solemn but she managed a small smile none the less.
''Ready as I'll ever be…''
Liz walked over to the desk to pick up her bag; a cab was waiting for them outside. When she turned back round she noticed John and Mrs Hudson exchange a nervous glace before he looked back in her direction hesitantly, ''Mycroft isn't coming'' he blurted out.
She wasn't in the least bit surprised, ''I expected as much…''
''You're not bothered?'' Mrs Hudson asked, clutching a white hanky in her left hand as she did,
''It's up to him, if he doesn't want to come then I can't make him can I?''
''I suppose not, but his own brother's funeral. I mean, you'd think he'd make the effort…'' she stopped when she saw Liz sigh impatiently,
''Sorry,'' Liz apologised almost immediately afterwards, ''these bloody hormones…''
''It's alright dear, understandable given the circumstances''
Liz just smiled, grateful that she wasn't going to press the Mycroft issue further, ''let's get it over with then shall we?'' with that she brushed past them both and down the stairs.
The cab journey was silent. Mrs Hudson was sat in the middle of them both, each of them staring in different directions. The ceremony was a quite affair, kept only to those people that really knew him, but then again, did anyone really know Sherlock Holmes?
Molly was there, constantly sobbing into a tissue next to Lestrade who looked just as miserable. It's funny; perhaps people really did care… Even Sally and Anderson made their appearance as well as a handful of other people from Scotland Yard. Angelo from the small cafe, Sarah who Liz said she had no problem with being invited despite only meeting Sherlock a few times as well as a few other people. All in all it was a pretty private send off.
During the service, Liz had not shed a tear once – not once. She'd been crying all bloody week and now it appeared she had none left to shed. It wasn't until the end when she found herself stood infront of her husband's grave did she feel them slide down her face.
Sherlock Holmes
- The black marble read. No dates, no commiserations, no fuss – just 'Sherlock Holmes' in bold gold letters.
She leant down with increasing difficulty to place a wreath against the headstone, white roses. Mrs Hudson had arranged the flowers, John had helped her with the actual funeral part and Mycroft had insisted on helping with the financials as well as paying off some of their debts after oh so helpfully informing her about the expenses of having a little one on the way. Of course he had offered to help her out in any way he could once he or she was born but Liz had insisted that she would be able to manage and would inform him if she came to any difficulty.
The three of them stood there quietly, except for the odd sniffle from Mrs Hudson. You never think it will happen, the ones you love and value the most will one day be gone – no matter how cruel the circumstances. The over used saying 'you never know what you've got 'till it's gone' never rang so true.
John and Mrs Hudson both had a moment in which they said something what they thought was relevant, something good about the dead man whose grave rested infront of them before they decided to give Elizabeth some discretion, to say what she wanted – if anything at all.
''We'll wait by the car'' John patted her on the shoulder; she nodded once, not taking her gaze away from the dark marble infront of her.
She took comfort in the only thing she could – the child that was growing inside her, a part of them both that would no doubt grow up with his eyes or her hair, god forbid if he or she inherited Sherlock's arrogance.
She smiled fondly, she'd never once in a million years pictured herself as a mother – she still didn't want to believe it but it was true. It was going to happen and this time, as much as she might regret it, she didn't want to stop it from happening either.
Nearly three weeks ago she had told him that he was going to be a father, three weeks ago he had informed her they would discuss it later. Later never came.
With a heavy sigh Liz pulled the sash round her middle more securely, it was a crisp autumn afternoon and the breeze ruffled her coat, the ground was soft and her heels sunk a little when she walked. She'd be coming here often she expected. On his birthday or Christmas, their wedding anniversary or the anniversary of his death… Whenever she felt like she wanted to… Would she bring their child here? She anticipated so when he or she was old enough to understand…
Somewhere hidden from view in the graveyard, Sherlock watched his wife mourn his death. He saw that her stomach had swelled with his child, only a little visible beneath her coat but enough for him to notice. Dark circles under her eyes told him she had not been sleeping well, the flush in her cheeks, the wind blowing her hair loosely out of its confinements and how she still wore her wedding ring proudly on her manicured finger – yes he noticed her not usual choice of nail varnish too.
He stood there simply observing and he almost forgot he was not allowed to be seen. He could see his friend and his landlady stood by the church talking quietly whilst they spared quick glances at Liz who had her back to them.
With one last goodbye, Liz turned round and started walking back across the grass. Sherlock subtly leaned backwards only slightly as to avoid being seen but he secretly wished she would look in his direction. Silently willing her to shift her gaze further to the left but she never did.
Sherlock had never felt more alone.
Not keen on the 'I love you' part near the beginning, purely because I think they can come across as cheesy but hopefully this is not the case. Also, kind of depressed myself writing this so leave some reviews to cheer me up and write the epilogue quicker *hint hint* ;D
