Once again, thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter! It means a lot to me, so if you could leave a review on the story I would greatly appreciate it. Sorry this is getting out a tiny bit late, I had friends over last night.

Trigger Warnings: Minor Character Death

Lestrade's POV, 9:17am

Detective Inspector Lestrade trudged into New Scotland Yard, rubbing the bridge of his nose, attempting to ward off the oncoming headache. He walked into his office and immediately collapsed at his desk, sighing and sipping his coffee. Lestrade spent 5 minutes lazily flipping through paperwork before giving up on trying to focus and lay his face down on the desk, only to be soon interrupted by Donovan stepping in to deliver yet more paperwork.

"Good time last night then, sir?" Donovan smirked.

"God, do I actually look that hungover?" He asked, only to receive a nod, "No, I-er, I didn't get much sleep. Didn't actually end up drinking anything at all."

"Ahh, got lucky at the party then?"

"No! No," he urged, "Anna had… Anna had a bad night, so I, um, stayed over at her place to make sure she didn't do anything stupid; I couldn't sleep knowing what she might do…" he trailed off after that, looking down at the floor.

Sally simply nodded and smiled sadly, before dropping the files she was holding on her boss's desk and walking out.

1:13pm

Lestrade stepped out of the squad car into the drizzle of London, turning his collar up. He had been called out for a suspicious suicide near St. Barts; a woman found dead without any clear cause of death. Lestrade walked up to Donovan, who was standing by the entrance to the alleyway with a report under her arm.

"What've we got, Donovan?" Lestrade called as he approached.

"Female in her early twenties, been dead for a few days. Likely a suicide, give the note we found with her. She seems to have died from an overdose, but doesn't appear to have been a junkie. Except…"

"Well?"

"Sir, the visible symptoms don't match with any drug on record. It was injected but there's no paraphernalia around that could have been used. No needles anywhere in the alley, couldn't've been thrown anywhere."

"Right, I'll see what there is."

Lestrade put on a pair of latex gloves before ducking under the blue tape and strolling over to the body. A neatly written note was on the floor beside it, saying 'I'm sorry Anna.'

The DI looked at the face presenting itself to him for the first time and froze where he stood. It can't be…

"Anderson!" He yelled at the plastic hood a few meters away, "Did you find any ID on the body?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he growled, struggling to suppress his rage, "Well, what does it say? Come on, Anderson, I haven't got all day!"

"I, um, it er it says she's called Alexandra Vias, 23 years old, lives in Twickenham."

Greg had stopped listening as soon as he said her name. Alex… it's Alex. he thought, Oh shit. Oh shit, Anna. Anna's gonna-Anna's gonna break. He rubbed his eyes, pacing slightly.

"The question is," Anderson continued, completely oblivious to his boss's stress. "Who's Anna?"

Sensing the tension in the air, Sally shot Anderson a death stare before saying anything.

"Greg, what's wrong?"

"Alex…" he whispered, looking at the body still lying in the cold. "Oh god she's gone…"

"Greg, what do you mean?" Sally continued, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I knew her. Tha-that body there, I knew her." He said hoarsely, "She was, she was Anna's girlfriend. They, um, they had a fight a couple of days ago and haven't talked since…"

They all stood there for a few minutes in silence, neither Donovan nor Anderson wanting to be the first to speak.

"Well, we've gotta get this body to the morgue for a proper post mortem, so we can figure out if this requires a homicide investigation." Greg said, having regained his composure.

"Yessir." the sergeant and forensic scientist said in unison, quickly taking their leave.

Greg just stood there for a while, lost in his thoughts. How can I tell Anna? How could I possibly tell Anna that she caused Alex's death… No. She didn't. This is not her fault. It is not her fault. His thoughts engulfed him, leaving him staring into the distance in the miserable weather. Oh god she's really dead. Alex is dead.

He'd have to tell her family, except… They disowned her. All of them. Alex's parents hadn't talked to her in years. Would he be able to get away with telling Anna first? She's the person put down as an emergency contact… He had to call Anna.

He took out his work phone with shaking hands and carefully put in his friend's number. The other end began to ring, but the sound was quickly cut off as the scientist accepted the call.

"He seriously already told you?" came crackling through the phone before Greg could put his words together, momentarily pushing all other thoughts from his mind.

"Who told me what?" the DI responded, cautiously.

"Errrrr, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Anna… It's about Alex.

Anna's POV

Alex…

"W-what? Greg, Greg what do you mean?" she murmured, her voice wavering.

Sherlock looked over, concerned.

"Alex…" Greg's voice said again, obviously trying to hold back tears, "Alex is dead, Anna.

She froze. Time stood still and all she could hear was the blood pumping through her body. All was still for a moment; all was quiet.

The sound of metal and glass coming into contact with linoleum brought her back to the real world, and for a shining moment everything was fine. But then she remembered. Hot, salty streams ran down her face, and she could hear nothing but her own tormented mind.

She felt her body slide down the wall to the floor, the cold material soothing her skin. Nothing mattered anymore. Alex was gone.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock watched uselessly as the usually confident form suddenly looked so small, so useless. He saw the body slide down the wall and fall to the floor, doing nothing to prevent its fate.

Shaking himself from the sight, he rushed over and picked up the phone, observing the spider-like cracks it had accumulated.

"Talk to me, Lestrade." Sherlock stated, ignoring the sight before him.

"I-Sherlock? Why are you there?"

"Nevermind that, Lestrade, what's happened. Tell me."

"Alex is dead, Sherlock."

"Where?"

Sherlock heard Lestrade sigh before he answered, "The alleyway near St. Bart's. You know the one. Just… Oh god, is Anna okay?"

"Yes, yes, just fine. John won't be out of the door yet, I'll fetch him on my way to you."

"Sherlo-" Sherlock ended the call before Lestrade could finish his sentence and rushed out of the lab, grabbing his coat.

The consulting detective sprinted through the corridors, knocking into John on his way out the door and saying something about looking after Anna, without giving any context.

As he neared the entrance to the alley he saw the flashes of police tape and Lestrade sitting up against a wall, head in his hands.

"How?" Sherlock said, almost yelling.

"What the bloody hell do you mean, 'How?'?" the detective replied, looking up to reveal a tear stained face.

"How did she die? You wouldn't tell me unless you wanted me to help solve the case." he said, trying to look around the corner from behind the striped tape.

"Alex is not a case, Sherlock!" Lestrade yelled, standing up and walking over to the younger man, "I told you because Alex was your fucking friend!" he took a breath, trying once again not to cry. "She's dead, Sherlock. Do you not care about that in the slightest?""

"I don't have friends."

"Yes you bloody do! What do you call me, eh? Or John? What about Anna and Molly? What about Alex? You were her friend Sherlock. Don't just make her another case." He shook his head as he finished, turning and walking away.

"I want to thank her." Sherlock called out, making the DI stop. "I want to solve her murder to say thank you. We both know this wasn't a suicide, Lestrade. Alex deserves better than us just leaving it like that."

Lestrade stood there for a few moments before nodding and ducking under the tape.

John's POV

Sherlock rushed past his friend, throwing a quick comment over his shoulder about Anna being "in a state of disarray" as he put it. That, coupled with Sherlock's rare flash of panic aroused John's concern about the scientist.

The doctor hurried up to the laboratory, panic rising. What could possibly be wrong to get Sherlock so worried? I guess I'm about to find out…

He stepped into the quiet, erie room. All he could hear was a high-pitched whimpering sound from behind a counter top. He stepped around the surface, and caught sight of a sobbing pile of cloth laying on the floor.

Oh Anna…

Anna's POV

She's gone, she's gone, she's gone. Alex is dead, she's dead. It's my fault, my fault, MY FAULT. There's someone here. They just walked in. Doesn't matter. She's dead, dead, dead.

Touching. They're touching me. Get off, off, off, stop it! Alex is dead, nothing matters, nothing matters anymore. Stop touching me, leave me alone, get off!

They stopped. Talking… They're talking now. I can hear them. I don't want to hear them, I want to talk to Alex, I want Alex back! Scared, so scared, so alone.

I made her do this, she's dead because of me. It's my fault my fault my fau-

"Anna," John said softly, finally snapping her from her thoughts, "Anna talk to me. Anna if you want help you have to tell me what's happened."

She slowly looked up, tears still blurring her vision. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Alex is gone."

John's POV

Kneeling in front of the wreck that was his friend, John started speaking gently.

"Hey. Hey Anna. Anna, can you tell me what's happened?" she said, putting a hand on her shaking arm.

No response.

"Anna I can't help unless you tell me. Please, I want to help."

He shook her gently for a few moments, trying to bring her back into reality. Her breathing quickened and suddenly a hand lashed out with jagged nails, aimed at the doctor's face. He leaned back but wasn't quick enough and his cheek was caught, radiating pain. He raised a hand to the wound, then brought it infront of his eyes to see bright, scarlet blood.

He took his hand from the scientist's arm and her breathing began to return to normal. Or at least, as normal as it could be whilst she was sobbing.

"Okay, I won't touch you. Anna please talk to me, I just need to know what's wrong."

Her mouth began moving slightly, words coming out as a murmur.

"I want to talk to Alex, I want Alex back…" was all John could hear.

"Hey, you want to talk to Alex? I can call her, do you want that?"

No response.

"Anna," he said, "Anna talk to me. Anna if you want help you have to tell me what's happened."

She looked up, eyes red and puffy with tear tracks running down her cheeks and spoke at an almost inaudible volume.

"Alex is gone." she said hoarsely.

"What do you mean? You mean Alex left?" John questioned, slowly reaching out to brush the strands of hair from his friend's face. "Yeah, Anna. You-you fought with each other and she left. You haven't talked to her since Sunday. I can call her for you, I can get her to come over…" he trailed off in thought. Why had Sherlock been rushing? Maybe Alex… No. No, that's not… No.

"Anna what's happened to Alex?" he said, concern suddenly present in his voice.

She just shook her head, tears streaking down her face.

"Anna tell me." he ordered, realising quickly how intimidating he sounded and lowering his voice, "Please."

"She…" Anna muttered, "She's dead."

What, he thought, What does she mean Alex is dead. Alex can't be dead, she… she can't be.

"What happened?" he asked sternly, causing her to recoil.

"G-Greg called… She's dead. She's dead, John, she's dead." the girl burst into tears and fell into the doctor's chest, trying to silence her crying.

"I… " he trailed off, not knowing what to say. Alex was dead.

Something told him that these would not be easy weeks to come.

And that's it for this chapter! Woo! I really hope you enjoyed and if you have any feedback at all, positive or negative, remember to leave a review!