Author's Note: Like… A bunch (few?) year(s?) later. We'll just go with "Later".

Yeah, about the delay, I'm very sorry but my parents have been taking my laptop at night (and I usually get my strokes of genius at 1 am if you hadn't gathered that.) so I haven't had a lot of time to work and I'm sorry that this chapter may be of lesser quality than the previous one. Next chapter is a lot better. And the last chapter.

After this much time, I thought it would be better. I thought the pain would become bearable, if only for a few seconds. Some days it's all I think about. I'll sit in his chair and stare out the window, wishing I could have been there with him in his last moments. Maybe that would have hurt worse. To see him go. I wish I knew what his last words were and the last thing he did. I wish I was there to hold his hand and stroke his cheek and tell him it would be okay. I would give anything to have shared his last few seconds.

I groaned as the doorbell rang, tearing me from my thoughts, one ring, maximum pressure just over the second. A client, but not with an urgent problem. I hate the ones who don't think they have a big problem because they usually don't. If you think your case is insignificant and may be too small and/or irrelevant to my deductive skill, it is.

I went down to answer it and in front of me stood a tall, muscular man in uniform. He must have known John. And been quite fond of him. He stuck his hand out and I shook it slowly.

"Sherlock Holmes?"

I nodded, watching him closely.

"Hi, I'm Todd Daniels. I knew John. I fought with him."

I felt my blood start to boil as I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, I know."

He looked down and bit his lip nervously. "May I come in?"

I sighed, deciding that a fight wouldn't help anything. I led him upstairs and sat in John's chair, letting him have mine. I brought my legs to my chest and tried not to cry as I stared at the fire place.

"You're a lot like I expected," he said with a laugh.

"Am I?"

"John talked about you a lot so I had my expectations."

I glanced at him, giving him a glare and looked away again. I quickly wiped my eye and gritted my teeth as I hid behind my knees.

"He loved you, you know."

I nodded. "I know."

"I know that you think he and I were interested in each other but we weren't. There was never a single glance between us that hinted at more than friends. He was always faithful to you, Mr. Holmes."

There was silence a moment before he started speaking again.

"I saw him that day. When he died."

I looked up at him and my mouth dropped open, my tongue tripping over itself. "W-What happened?"

Todd seemed sad to remember and he avoided my eyes. "He ran out for someone. Again. It's a miracle he made it the first time, but the second, he wasn't so lucky. He was shot twice before he fell. You know the last thing he said to me?"

I shook my head. Of course I don't bloody know, moron. I may be Sherlock Holmes but I don't know every word John's ever spoken. Fucking idiot.

"It was just before he ran. He hadn't shot his gun in a while so I looked over to him. He said, 'Fuck it,' and then stood up and ran," he said with a fond laugh.

I couldn't help but laugh as well, even as a tear escaped me.

"He used to tell me stories about Baker Street and the famous Consulting Detective that was just over the moon when news came of a homicide. He never shut up about you. I… I know about the fight you two had," he whispered. "Most nights, when I would wake up in the middle of the night, I could hear him crying on his bed. He never said anything but I know it was about you."

I narrowed my eyes as I thought.

"Don't feel bad, I just… I wanted you to know that he loved you, Mr. Holmes, and thought of you often."

I nodded, keeping my eyes down as I fiddled with my sleeves, willing myself to stop crying.

"Sorry to intrude. I really should be going," he said as he stood up and handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "If there's ever anything I can do, any questions I can answer, let me know."

"Thank you," I whispered as I showed him out.

Mycroft? Why does it hurt so much?

Because it is real.

Years later and it still hurts. The pain never goes away. There's always a knife in the chest that you can't pull out. It only gets pushed deeper.