Thank you all again for the reviews and love !

September 20. Lissie drew the red x over the day and blinked. She had turned 16 a few days ago, and today was a decidedly less jovial occasion. Sixteen years ago, her mother had died.

She wished she could go out to the grave and put flowers on it, and maybe leave a note. She had done it every day since she was old enough to walk. Maybe if she asked Sherlock nicely-

"Absolutely not. You go back to school tomorrow. We can't drive five hours away."

"I've done it every year, I don't want to stop now -"

"Lissie, she's in heaven, not at that slab of stone. We can go some other time, she won't mind." He was so calm, so brisk. He might have been telling someone the time.

"I know that, Sherlock," she said furiously. "I just wanted to go...sixteen years..."

He typed into his laptop.

Anger and hurt seethed in her. She knew this might be hard for him, too, but she wished he would show some emotion. Why did he have to he so cold?

She sniffed a little, clawed at her eyes, and turned to leave.

"We'll go."

"Huh?"

She followed him to the car, surprised.

They had driven an hour before he spoke.

"I went to the burial ceremony," he said quietly, and it took her a second to realize he was talking to her. Shocked, she stared at him.

"Right after the news of her death. I drove out there, but I was too late. All her friends and family were leaving; just Mr. Raymond was there, and they were lowering the coffin down. He said, "I ought to kill you, Holmes. You did this to her."

Sherlock passed one weary hand over his face, keeping one on the wheel. He continued, emotionless.

Flashback

#####

They made an odd picture , standing there, as men shoveled spadefulls of dirt over a coffin: the man-boy, nearly 19, and the old man.

Other mourners passed them, darting curious glances.

The boy had been crying, and he was trying to hide it even as the tears fell. He approached the man cautiously.

"I ought ta kill you, Holmes. You did this to her," the old man growled.

"No, sir," the boy managed quietly. "Heartbreak did. We loved each other."

The old man's face contorted. "Admit it, you bastard."

"Admit what?," the boy asked, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight that seemed to mock his pain.

"You wanted her money all along."

Mr. Raymond watched as the boy turned paler than he'd thought possible. "Never! I never wanted anything but her love, sir, you know-"

"Shut up. You're being ridiculously sappy. Funny, Holmes, I thought you didn't get all worked up?"

How could he be like this,at his own daughter's funeral? "You're drunk," the boy observed, knowing it wasn't a very hard observation and kicking himself for not noticing it sooner. "Elsie loved me, and you know it."

The man stepped forward and backhanded him, hard. The boy's head snapped back, and he staggered, raising fists. The man laughed.

"That's what I'm capable of doing. You know I am a powerful man. If you return here while I'm living, my associates or I will kill you, and your sniveling brother. Go."

The boy ignored the man, gazing at the dirt and listening to the THUNK it made against the coffin.

"She's in heaven," he yelled suddenly. "You'll never be there."

"Please. The side of angels is terribly boring." His hand slipped to his pocket, and the boy's keen eyes picked out the outline of a Colt .45. " I suggest, Holmes, you leave now."

#######

"So you see, I did go. But by the time I got to her, it was too late."

"Oh," Lissie said, feeling like a horrible person. "Sherlock, I'm sorry." The young, vulnerable Holmes was incredibly hard to imagine, and she knew it must have been difficult for Sherlock to open up to her. How could she have thought him cold? Why,he was protecting himself with coolness.

He didn't respond, and they just kept driving, through little towns or by green pastures and past grey stone houses.

They finally pulled down the long drive of the manor house she knew so well.

"You go first," she said quietly. He locked eyes with her. Suddenly shy, Lissie hastened, "I mean, I've had 16 years here. You have your time with Mum, and I'll come along in a bit."

"Thank you." He spoke simply, but his tone held meaning.

She watched him go, sliding slowly out of the car and taking gliding steps down the gravel path to the family cemetery. He stopped in front of Elsie's grave, framed in the glow of late afternoon sunlight.

To Lissie's surprise, he knelt at the headstone, long fingers tracing the words she couldn't see from where she sat. It was no matter - she knew the words inscribed in the marble well:

Elizabeth 'Elsie' Rose Raymond

November 14, 1979 ~ September 20, 1998

"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord."

It seemed as if Sherlock was saying something. Whether he was speaking to her mother or praying, Lissie didn't know.

Then he put his head in his hands.

Suddenly, in one awful moment, she realized Sherlock was crying, truly sobbing like a brokenhearted child. Shoulders heaving, he emitted shuddering sobs. His face was ashen gray. She had never seen him like this, and she felt the need to do something.

Without knowing what she was planning, she slid from her seat, running down the little embankment to the grave. She stopped short beside Sherlock.

He was already swiping at his eyes, reaching in his pockets for his nicotine fix but the heaving sobs could not be controlled. "I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I-"

She put her slim arms around him. "Sixteen years of grief is a lot to hold in. It's perfectly alright to let it out now."

"Lissie," he almost-whispered, "your mother would be proud of you."

Then she was crying, too.

"The letters stopped," she said. "She only had time to write sixteen. I was born the 13th, and she died the 20th."

"That doesn't mean that she loves you any less."

"I know, but..."

He held her tightly, then cleared his throat. "All right, then."

She smiled sadly at him, and rose. "Ready for the off?"

"Don't go yet! That was ever so touching," a mocking voice came from the trees.

Sherlock' s entire face twisted. "Not...here," he said. "Not at Elsie's grave."

"But why ever not?" Jim Moriarty queried with an evil smile as men with guns came into view.