Epilogue for you!

This story was so fun to write!

I love you all so much!

Disclaimer: Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.

Charlie got the call on a Thursday night, in the middle of a movie with her roommates.

She'd not done a good job of keeping track of the dates; and the phone call caught her by surprise. But the moment she heard his voice, she knew what had happened, and she knew she'd have to be Eden again, at least for a while.

"I hate to do this over the phone," John's voice had broken, and tears had immediately begun to fill Eden's eyes.

"Where are you? I'm coming right now."

An audible breath was heard over the phone, and then "St. Barts. 3rd floor break room."

Eden was standing in the doorway before John had finished speaking. John stared out the window, face void of any expression as he gazed out at the foggy London sky. Gone was the imposing figure he made, instead, he just looked…small. Tired. Every line of his body looked defeated, alone. Eden took a step forward into the room, and John turned around slowly to look at her. His eyes were filled with pain.

"Moriarty….He made…He made him….Sherlock." When a tear fell from John, Eden's lip began to tremble, and before she knew it she was embracing John, and he was weeping into her shoulder, and she was squeezing him tightly, her own tears falling.

No one came to disturb them. As the minutes turned into hours and the two eventually found themselves on the floor, John didn't once lose ahold of Eden. It took him nearly three hours to finally say the words, and that had only brought on a fresh wave of tears and sorrow. Eden held him through it all, never saying anything.

"Sherlock Holmes…is Dead."

It took a little over a week to organize the funeral. Eden stayed in London that entire week, not even glitching home to sleep, instead sleeping nearby wherever John had fallen asleep himself, whether that be in Sherlock's chair, the couch, his own bed, or once, in the kitchen, both of them leaning against the cupboards.

John didn't speak much, and Eden had nothing to say.

Well…she had something to say, but the day she'd returned Mycroft had urged her not to say anything.

Eden wasn't sure how long she could stay silent, not being forced to watch John mourn every second of the day.

Nearly a week after she'd first returned to London, a few days before the funeral, She had called Mycroft while John was asleep, nearly in tears.

"You don't understand, Myc, you're not here, you can't see what it's doing to him. It's killing me, seeing him like this, and knowing, and I CAN'T Myc, it HURTS."

Mycroft had been silent at first. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, soothing.

"I cannot fathom how John must be feeling right now. But nothing can be said. The funeral needs to go on as planned, and the funeral is on SATURDAY. Two days, Eden."

"I KNOW when the funeral is, why are you telling me when and how far…." And Eden's eyes had widened and she'd hiccupped, and Mycroft had chuckled.

"Thank you, Myc."

"What for?" Mycroft asked lightly before he hung up, and Eden shook her head.

Two more days.

The funeral was a quiet, small affair. Eden had been surprised to bring two unplanned guests with her, but even then the group gathered together was small.

Before the funeral had begun Eden had introduce John to the friends she'd brought, and John had become more alert when she introduced one of them as her boyfriend.

Eden bit her lip when John had tried to intimidate the man by using a strong grip, but had ended up wincing and massaging his own hand.

The introduction had seemed to lift his spirits somewhat, but then the entire procession began and he'd fallen silent once more.

At one point during the service Eden had looked around at the assembled group, and noticed Mycroft; who'd originally not planned on attending, standing near the back. With a squeeze of both John and her boyfriends hand, she slipped away to stand next to the somber figure.

"Didn't think you'd make it." She spoke lowly.

Mycroft shrugged. "You'd have to have learned the news from somebody."

Eden raised a brow. "Who says I'm telling him anything?" She argued softly.

Mycroft huffed and Eden rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm going to tell him," she admitted. "But I'm telling him everything."

"Is that wise?" Mycroft asked gently, and Eden shrugged.

"I don't care if it's wise or not, I'm doing it. He deserves to know."

Mycroft nodded. "I don't disagree. But…He will be angry with you."

Eden winced, then nodded. "He has every right to be. But I'm not waiting any second longer than I have to."

Mycroft was silent. Eden felt a momentary pressure on her wrist, and she knew it was Mycroft's way of seeking physical comfort…perhaps the only way he knew how. So she took the initiative, and grabbed his hand. He clutched back tightly.

It didn't matter that they both knew it wasn't real…The feelings were real. And it hurt.

They stayed that way for the rest of the service.

When the service ended, John had bade her to head to the flat without him, that he would meet her there, and she agreed, knowing what would happen next would be necessary for his healing.

She introduced Mycroft to her boyfriend, who just shot the man a narrow eyed look which she'd punched him for. She'd given Mycroft a hug and he made her promise to get a hold of him should she ever need him, which she agreed to, and then Mycroft had looked often into the distance and remarked upon the loveliness of the….trees. Eden had made a confused face, and then Mycroft went on his way.

John had returned to the flat weary, but at peace, somewhat. When Eden had ushered him inside and told him she needed to talk to him, his hard-won peace started to shake. At her very first words, it shattered completely. It had taken four hours to comprehend the entire story she'd told him, her entire story, and it took three days to for John to speak to her again.

John; once he'd thought it all out, understood where she was coming from, and even though the timeline couldn't be changed, her presence through the entire thing meant the world to him, and he couldn't stay mad at her.

He couldn't imagine having to go through all that on his own.

And while the knowledge made him furious, it was also a relief. He felt he could move on with his life, now that he knew everything. Maybe he would move out…out of the flat, maybe even out of London? At that point anything was possible. He could do whatever he wanted…he felt free.

Because Sherlock Holmes was alive.

HE LIIIIIVVVEEEESSSSS!

Did you really think Charlie was going to keep quiet about all that?

Try again.

PS: Moriarty really is dead. This is important for later stories.

For those of you who like my Author's notes, that'll be up probably Wednesday. That'll explain my thought process behind this story and more in depth what is coming up next in the GLITCH series...if you'd like to review a question, I'll do my best to answer it there!

For those who don't read my Author's Notes: There is a current story that follows the Glitch series, called BUCKY that you might want to check out, and the next story in this series is called...Crowley's Revenge. (Or Redemption, I haven't decided yet. Chapters one and two should be posted tonight.)

To those continuing with us on the Supernatural journey with Charlie/Kay/Eden/whatever nickname she uses next story, see you there! For those of us holding off or ending the journey here, Thank you. Thank you so much for your support and your patience and your encouragement. I could not have done this without you.

There is also another story beginning in February that Sherlock and John and Mycroft will be a part of; called Charlie's Terrible Horrible. If you decide to take a break and meet us back at that story, you could plausibly do that as well.

I love you all...I really do. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

~CLC~