Lottie sat silent in the back of Mary's car, her eyes watching the scenery pass by through the window, but her mind was elsewhere. She absentmindedly fiddled with the jewelry on her left ring finger and her locket that she was smoothing over in her lap. She was remembering a few days prior, back at Baker Street, one of the last days she had with Sherlock before they had to take him away. Mycroft had talked them into letting Sherlock stay at home while they decided what to do with him, knowing no prison could ever hold him without causing a riot on a daily basis. She looked down to her lap, sliding her nails in between the two sides of the locket and prying it open. The picture that made their name had a permanent home there, reminding her of everything they'd gone through. And not even just her and Sherlock, but with John too. She glanced up at him behind the wheel of the car and found him glancing back at her every so often, checking on her as he often did. She wished she could've reassured him that she was okay, but she was so emotionally drained she wasn't sure she could muster up the energy to even smile at him. She returned to the blurry greens that they were outside the window, her mind wandering off again in search of the joy she found in those last few days with Sherlock, remembering one in particular.

Lottie sat in Sherlock's chair with a cup of tea resting in her lap. She had a book open but she wasn't reading it, unable to keep her mind in it for long enough to retain anything that was happening in the story. Sherlock was in their bedroom in the back of the flat, trying to keep his mind busy, unwilling to think about what the next few months would bring, but he was having about as much luck as Lottie was with her book. He took a seat on his bed and let his mind wander, at a loss of what to do with his time. There was no point in packing, there wasn't anything he would need that they wouldn't supply him. No point in taking up a case, either. It wasn't permitted. He glanced over at the photo frame that Lottie had placed on the nightstand on her side of the bed, picking it up with a heavy heart. A photo of the two of them, of him perched in his usual spot in the kitchen with his chemistry equipment, but he wasn't working, not at that moment anyway. He was turned away from the table, facing a very happy Lottie with his hands resting on her hips. She had a teacup in her hands and the biggest of smiles on her face, as did he. He remembered this moment that Mary had snapped on her phone, though he hadn't even realized that she was there, though he seldom did whenever it was just he and Lottie. When it was just the two of them, he felt most comfortable, relaxed, himself. She didn't care that he didn't speak when he was working, or that he continued to speak even when she wasn't in the room. She didn't care that he stayed up all night playing violin when he was thinking, nor did she mind all of the experiments that he performed in their home. In fact, she enjoyed them, loved hearing him explain things to her. Normally, he would get annoyed of having to explain things, complain that people didn't think or observe, but not her. He didn't mind explaining things to Lottie, he was sure he might even miss it once he…

He shook his head, an idea forming in his mind that made his heart race. He set the photo down and got to his feet, pulling open the top drawer of his dresser on the other side of the room and he pulled out a little red box, holding it gingerly in his fingers and gently prying it open to reveal the ring with a clear-cut center diamond and two red gems on either side of it. He felt himself smile in spite of himself and he popped the box closed again. It was now or never.

John drove himself, a very pregnant Mary, and Lottie towards their destination. None of them said a word as they pulled into the airport parking lot where a private jet was parked, ready to take flight with a few people standing around waiting. John put the car in park and turned back to Lottie, placing a hand on her knee. She looked over at him and gave a weak smile, to which he returned, and they got out of the car to greet Sherlock, Mycroft, and presumably the jet piolet standing around the plane. Mary was the first to approach Sherlock, a soft smile on her features and her arms held to hug him. He held her for a moment, trying to keep his cool. They had only been there for less than five seconds and he already knew this was going to be a lot harder than he could have ever imagined.

"You will look after him for me, won't you?" he asked and Mary chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry," she promised, "I'll keep him in trouble."

He smiled, "That's my girl."

She turned back and assumed her position at John's side, taking his hand and standing before Sherlock, but he wasn't looking at them. His eyes were gazing past them, where Lottie was standing by the car still. She re-clasped her locket around her neck and looked over at him with sad, broken eyes. He could see the gleam of the ring on her finger and he felt the corners of his mouth tug, remembering that evening fondly.

Sherlock stepped down the hall with tentative steps, stopping just inside the living room, waiting for Lottie to look up at him. When she did, she gave him the weakest smile, pulling at his heartstrings. But he kept telling himself, now or never. He approached her and held out his hand to her to which she took without hesitation, as she always did and he picked up the remote to the iHome, hitting play so that one of the pieces he'd composed and recorded himself filled the room. He turned back to her and held her frame with one hand, and her palm in the other, very casual, but so intimate, something he would have never even dreamed of before he met her and now, it very well could be the thing that he would miss most.

"You love to dance." Lottie muttered, reimagining the night of John and Mary's wedding – the night this whole mess began. Sherlock nudged her cheek with his nose.

"With you." He added. She hummed in question and he repeated in a soft tone, "I love to dance with you."

She smiled and rested her head on his chest, letting him take control of their swaying dance around their living room. He kissed her hair and rested his cheek there. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, letting Sherlock's music move them and allowing both of them to soak up this moment, one of their lasts that they would have together. Sherlock wanted to stay like that forever, but his logical brain was nagging at him, telling him to get a move on and he sighed. Lottie looked up at him expectantly and he stopped their swaying. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Sherlock, what is it?"

Sherlock brought himself back from his walk down memory lane and thinned his lips.

He did not want to do this.

He turned to his brother with thin lips, "Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson, would you mind if we took a moment?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, but obliged none-the-less, gesturing the crowd over to the other end of the lot. Lottie was the only one who didn't move. She was leaning against the car, away from everyone and out of earshot of John and Sherlock. John cleared his throat.

"So, here we are." He said.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Sherlock stated suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"That's the whole of it. If you're looking for baby names."

John chuckled, "No, we've had a scan. We're pretty sure it's a girl."

"Oh," Sherlock smiled, "Okay."

Silence. Complete silence between the two of them. Years of crime-solving and breaking into places they shouldn't be, busting crimnals, and so much more. And neither of them could think of a damn thing to say to one another. They looked around awkwardly until John finally stepped closer to Sherlock, speaking in a whisper, "The game is over."

"The game is never over, John." Sherlock assured, "But there may be some new players now. That's okay. The east wind takes us all in the end."

"What's that?"

"It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. The east wind, this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. Seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me."

"Nice."

"He was a rubbish big brother."

John smiled, looking down at the pavement, "So what about you, then? Where are you actually going now?"

Sherlock sucked in a breath, "Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe."

"For how long?"

"Six months, my brother esitmates. He's never wrong."

"And then what?"

Sherlock didn't say anything. He was biting the inside of his cheek and his eyes were wet with unspilled tears and John knew. He knew exactly what Sherlock was trying to tell him. He nodded his head and looked away. He took a deep breath, and changed the subject as quick as possible.

"Congradulations by the way." He said. Sherlock smirked, as much as this was tearing him down, that one moment of bliss; that would keep him going. That moment would be with him until the end.

"Sherlock, what is it?" Lottie asked.

"Charlotte Eloise Blakely," he started and Lottie's hands immediately flew to cover her face. Typical girl excitement washing over her as Sherlock spoke, "I know you've technically already said yes, but, I want to do this properly,"

He pulled the ring box from his pocket and tears started pouring from Lottie's eyes as he got down on one knee. He waited a moment, letting the moment linger, letting both of them take complete advantage of the joy that was filling the room. He was grinning like an idiot but he didn't care. He pulled the box open and presented it to her, "Lottie, will you marry me?"

"John," Sherlock finally said, "I need you to take care of her. Take care of her for me."

John looked back at Lottie still leaning against the car. She was quiet now, calm, for the most part, but she would not handle this well later, and both boys knew that, and Sherlock would not be there to comfort her. He would not be there to hold her, to kiss her lips, to remind her to breath, but John would. John would be there, like he always was and always would be. He would be there to pick her back up when she fell to pieces; he'd done it before and he would do it again. He nodded and turned back to Sherlock, who had his hand held out to him.

"To the very best of times, John."

They shook hands and with one look back at his brother Sherlock stepped around John and started for his now fiancé standing by the car they'd arrived in. John joined his wife with the others and they watched the couple with a sad interest. John hated this, this was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he wanted for either of them. Usually, they greeted each other with a kiss, but not this time. This time Lottie hesitated to even look up at him. She hadn't cried when she heard he was leaving, not one tear, and John suspected she already knew; deep down, she knew that he would have to leave. On the way to the airport, she hadn't shed a single tear, but now, when she finally looked up at Sherlock, she had tear stains. She was trying to be brave, for him. She knew he'd done this for the ones he loved, he had to. There was nothing else anyone could have done. The spark he'd seen in her eyes that day was gone, dull and lifeless and he hated himself for this. He remembered the tears she'd cried that day, much different than the ones that slid down her cheeks now.

Sherlock felt his eyes brim with tears, both of them giving the saddest of smiles. He reached out and caressed her cheek with his bare hand and she anticipated his touch, closing her eyes and relishing in the last moments of them being together. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he was crying, something she'd never seen before, not truly. She's been quiet all this time, but she couldn't anymore. She finally let out a sob and threw her arms around his waist, to which he responding by letting his body surrender to her, holding her frame with one hand on the back of her head and burying his face in her hair. He was holding her so close, so tight that she thought he might break her in half but she didn't care. It wouldn't matter – she was going to break as soon as he walked away anyway. She was holding him just as tight, as tight as her weak muscles would let her, gripping his coat and never wanting to let him go. She could almost hear his heart shattering into tiny pieces when she felt his lips on her head. She pulled away and looked into his red-rimmed eyes and she smiled, remembering looking into his eyes when he was down on one knee, presenting her with the most beautiful ring, feeling so terribly speechless.

"Sherlock," Lottie gasped. She feverishly started nodding her head, whispering her answer, 'Yes!' over and over in a blissful whisper, releasing her mouth and holding her left hand out for Sherlock to slide the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

Sherlock got to his feet and gave Lottie one of the most passionate kisses he could muster. This was exactly as he wanted. If he'd had time to plan it properly, there wasn't a lot he would've changed about that moment. He would've done it there, at Baker Street, where they'd met, where they lived and worked, where they shared a bed. He would've done it while she was reading and drinking tea, wearing one of his shirts with her long red hair fanned out over the arms of his chair, where she loved to sit. This was where he would've done it.

Only he wouldn't be leaving her. Again.

"You keep breaking your promise, Sherlock." Lottie managed, "You said you would stay with me."

He gave a breathy laugh and crashed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, letting their lips move in time with each other, memorizing how it felt. He started to pull away but she lifted her heels to meet his lips again, pouring all of her passion into it until she couldn't anymore. He rested his forehead on hers, out of breath.

"I will always stay with you." He breathed. He placed something in her hand and with one last chaste kiss, he walked away, not daring to look back again for fear that he wouldn't be able to let her go. He barely glanced over John, Mary, and his brother, finding it almost as hard to say goodbye, and climbed into the plane.

And just like that, he was gone. Lottie held the back of her hand under her nose, choking back the sobs that threatened to send her into a downward spiral. She looked down at the item in her hand, a small red box, not unlike the one he'd proposed to her with. She opened it and found three items inside and she felt her eyes grow wide. There were two rings, one of them slightly bigger than the other, and she picked up the smaller one, made of gold and lined with red gems to match her engagement ring, the bigger one, also gold, but the entire inside was a deep red. She knew exactly what it was, and exactly what it meant.

The jet roared to life, blowing Lottie's hair all around her face and she looked up as it pulled away, starting for the runway across the grass mall. She watched it go and she turned back to John. He was watching the plane go but when he felt her eyes on her he averted his attention. She held yes gaze for a moment, but returned to the departing plane. He watched her heart shatter as the aircraft gained speed and all he could do was give her a look of pity. Faster and faster and Lottie suddenly felt her feet moving, starting after it, but something jerked her back and she watched in helpless horror as plane that carried the love of her life lifted into the air. She felt weak, but John's embrace held her on her feet. She watched the plane for a moment then turned back to John. He wasn't crying, but she could see the heartbreak in his eyes and she flung her arms around his neck.

Mycroft stepped into his car and Mary approached John and Lottie cautiously. The two of them were holding on to each other for dear life it seemed. Mary hadn't been there, but she imagined this was a bit like what it was like when Sherlock jumped, though she would never truly know, just like she would never truly know the bond Lottie and John had. It wasn't romantic, no, she knew that but there was a special bond there. Mary imagined a little black string between the two, being yanked and stretched and knotted, but no matter what it kept them together, it kept them afloat; a lifeline that the two of them had weaved long ago that kept them both standing. They'd gone through so much, it was merely survival. Lottie opened her eyes and peered over at Mary. All this time, Lottie wouldn't even look at her, still upset that she had shot Sherlock, and reasonably so. Mary understood, hoping that time would heal their relationship and she gave her her space. But to her surprise, Lottie let go of John, approaching the blonde apprehensively. They used to be so close, the best of friends, but Mary ripped a whole in that fabric much like she'd ripped a hole in Sherlock's chest. Lottie was so bitter, so angry and hard, but now, looking at the ginger that stood before her, Mary could see how broken she was. She'd lost him, grieved for two years, got him back, almost lost him again because of her, and now he was gone, for good. She'd been drained of all emotion, and, to Mary's surprise, she hugged her. Mary didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around the girl's frame. When they parted, Mary held her at arm's length, noticing the box in her hand. She reached for it, silently asking for permission from Lottie who let it go with dead eyes. John joined them, peering inside when Mary pulled it open. Lottie tried to chuckle through her tears at their faces, holding herself and turning away. She could still see the plane in the distance and she watched it, silently praying that it would turn around and bring him back to her, knowing deep down that it wouldn't.

Mary pulled the items out and handed the box over to John. She stood in front of Lottie once more, holding the jewelry out to her. The third item, the one Lottie had forgotten about, too distracted by the rings, caused her to furrow her eyebrows. It was a pendant with the same red gem that was set in the front of her locket. She took it from Mary and examined it closer, noticing that this too was a locket. She glanced up at Mary and pried it open, finding a picture placed inside. The one that had sat by their bed on her side. The one Mary had taken of them in their kitchen. Lottie cupped her mouth and Mary immediately put her arms around the girl's shoulders. Opposite the photo, a piece of paper behind a glass protector, a small note in Sherlock's hand. Their promise to each other, the one that was so hard for them to keep.

'I will always stay with you. –SH'

"He'd not coming back, is he?" Lottie whispered. But neither Mary nor John had the heart to answer her. Mary took the pendant locket and slid the wedding rings onto the chain, clasping it around Lottie's neck. It hung perfect, just below the smaller one with the hidden GPS and Lottie smiled at her as a thank you. They got ready to leave but they were stopped Mycroft opened up his car door and started complaining to someone on the phone.

"But that's not possible. That is simply not possible."

The three of them turned back to look at him and John left the two ladies and stepped forward, "What's happened?"

Mycroft merely shook his head and dialed another number on his phone. Lottie squeezed Mary's hand as the elder Holmes brother spoke, and she couldn't believe the words that escaped his mouth.

On the plane, Sherlock watched out the window as they gained more altitude by the minute. He pulled something from his pocket and ran his thumb over the red gem in the center absentmindedly. His eyes were pink and puffy but he didn't care. This was it. He was never going to see her again. He peered down at the pendant in his hand, popping it open to view the picture inside, Lottie's happy smile and bright grey eyes were staring back at him. It was a photo he'd found on his phone when he'd left it unguarded in their flat for too long; she'd taken several pictures of herself and left them there for him to find. If anyone else had done it, he would've been seriously irritated but not with her. If he was honest, he was glad for them. Especially on days when she took a weekend trip or if he was working on a case by himself, which was rare, or in cases like this when this would be the only thing he would have to remember her. On the other side, under the clear film piece, a note forever preserved in this locket. It was in her handwriting, from a note she'd scribbled when she'd gotten up extra early one morning and had to run a few errands. She'd left him this note so he knew where she'd gone, but she signed it as she always did to him.

'Always, Lottie xx'

"Sir?"

He clipped the pendant shut at the sound of the pilot's voice, peering up at him through his eyelashes. He really didn't feel like talking, but the man was holding out a phone to him and he furrowed his brow.

"It's your brother." He was informed. Sherlock leaned up and took the device from him, holding it to his ear.

"Mycroft."

"Hello, little brother. How's the exile going?"

"I've only been gone four minutes."

"Well, I certainly hope you've learnt your lesson. As it turns out, you're needed."

Sherlock's eyes widened, "Oh, for God's sake, make up your mind. Who needs me this time?"

There was a hesitation at the other end before Mycroft answered him, "England."

"No. He's dead."

Lottie was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands together and taking deep breaths. This could not be happening.

"John, Lottie's right." Mary said, "I mean, you told me he was dead. Moriarty is supposed to be dead."

"Absolutely." John said, very matter-of-fact, "He blew his own brains out."

"So how can he be back?" Lottie squeaked. Mary hugged her and John took a deep breath.

"Well, if he is," he started, "He'd better wrap up warm. There's an east wind coming."

He wasn't even looking at them, he was looking past them and Lottie was about to ask him what in the hell he was talking about, then she realized and her eyes grew wide at the sound of a plane drawing near. She whipped around and found the aircraft that, only moments ago, had taken Sherlock away from her was now bringing him back. She covered her mouth has the plane landed and within minutes the door swung open, letting the stairs fall down to the concrete and there he was, the love of her life, craning his head out the door, his eyes searching for one person. She started for him and he bounded down the steps just in time for her to fling her arms around his neck. He held her for a moment and pulled back, letting his fingers graze the necklace that now meant so little, but so much at the same time. She peered down at it and reached around to unhook it, sliding the wedding rings off its chain and placing them in his hand with a smart smile.

"You'll be needing these back I think. We're going to need them."

He kissed her lips again, this time, in pure happiness and bliss. He didn't have to leave her, he could keep his promise, at least for now. They parted and she took his free hand, dragging him back to their friends, their family, and Mary threw her arms around him in a loving hug.

"Welcome back." She said. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I'm never going to get away from you, am I?" John said. Sherlock turned to him with a sheepish smile. But John merely laughed and pulled him in for a hug as well, one Sherlock was happy to return. He handed over the box that held the rings and Sherlock placed them safely inside, stuffing it inside his coat.

"So, he's back." John said.

"So I've heard." Sherlock, locking fingers with Lottie, "Are you coming? Could be dangerous."

"No, don't start that again."

Sherlock's face fell. He knew there was a chance that John wouldn't want to help. He was married, with a baby on the way, but there was something in his eyes, then he laughed.

"Of course I'm coming with you." He said. Sherlock smiled and John nodded his head towards the car, taking Mary's hand and helping her into the passenger seat. Sherlock and Lottie weren't too far behind, stopping just before he opened the door to the backseat for her.

"I told you." He said.

"Told me what?"

"That I would stay with you." He smirked and she rolled her eyes. One more kiss and she slid into the car, scooted over just enough to give him a seat and he stepped in after her. They all looked around, happy smiles and tears all around and Lottie's heart was slowly mending itself. The four of them would keep that promise. There would be books written about them, Lottie was sure of it. She settled into her seat next to Sherlock, smiling when Mary leaned over to give John a quick kiss, and Sherlock's finger interlocked with her own. John started the car and they started off towards 221b Baker Street. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into but Lottie know one thing, this was her family, and they would all stay with each other.

Always.