Author's note: Thank you all so much for the continued love you give this story. Every review honestly means so much to me! I've been so overwhelmed with college work and applying for university that I haven't had much time at all to think about writing, but I promise, this story will not be ending any time soon! As a note, instead of being gone 2 years, I'm going to make it 1 and a half years.

Also, the Sherlock special the other day was amazing!

Please leave a review!

Chapter 47

The death of Sherlock Holmes had taken its toll heavily on Lucy and John. Over the months since his suicide, Lucy's mental state had been deteriorating rapidly. Her arms and thighs and stomach were all littered with fresh cuts and burns of varying severity. She was more careful though in regards to critical veins, she had made a vow to herself to not commit suicide no matter how bad the thoughts got. It was so devastatingly hard, but cutting and self-destruction kept her sane enough to carry on each day. She couldn't leave John. Out of all the reasons for staying in such a cruel world, she did it for John's sake.

John had started to be at Baker Street less and less, consuming himself with work and not returning until very late. Although he hadn't yet told Lucy, John Watson had found someone. He was too scared to tell Lucy, for fear that it may be too soon after Sherlock's death for her to know that John was getting on with his life so much. He knew it was silly but he just wanted to minimise any further distress to the poor girl. By now, Lucy was sixteen, nearing seventeen, and although she refused to go counselling, John felt that she was doing her best to cope as well as possible considering the awful situation. She'd cried at the detective's funeral, and she still cried most of the time, but he could see her slowly trying to come to terms with it all, even though he thought that it would be a very long time until she moved on. There were days when she'd just walk around London for hours on end, on her own, needing the fresh air. And there were days when she would sit by Sherlock Holmes' grave for hours and hours. It was heart breaking. But John knew there was little he could truly do.

Lucy had refused to go to school, opting instead to study in her room, memorising her text books for all of her subjects. Several painful months after Sherlock's death, she sat her GCSE's, and passed with flying colours, earning straight A's across the board much to everyone's delight. On the day of her results, John and Lestrade took her out for a meal at their favourite Indian restaurant. She loved days like that, they felt almost normal. But there was still someone missing.

It was on the one year anniversary of Sherlock's death that Lucy ran away. Together, the teenager and John went to visit their friend's grave and laid down flowers. For a while they sat by the headstone in silence, thinking. Tears were obviously shed and Lucy threw her arms around John in a tight hug. Neither knew what to do. Later that day, John had gone out for a bit, saying he had some work to do, although Lucy knew this was bullshit. Once she was left on her own, she went into Sherlock's old room and sat on his bed, looking around in despair. She slowly walked over to Sherlock's wardrobe and pulled out a grey t shirt that he used to wear when he was lounging around. Lucy buried her face in the soft material, inhaling the familiar yet distant smell of her friend. A tear escaped her. She felt lonely. So lonely. In all honesty she couldn't blame John for staying away from the flat for a bit, but it still hurt. Lucy went into her room, putting on Sherlock's top in the process that was way too big for her. She grabbed her warm black jacket, keys, wallet and phone and went downstairs. The front door of 221B Baker Street shut quietly behind her as she made her way onto the busy streets of London.

It was getting dark by the time she found her way to the roof of St Bart's hospital. The sun was setting, and the last orange hues of the day were painting the skyline as the inky blackness of night slowly crept in. Her phone had been buzzing for several hours now, but she was too numb to even bother looking. She sat down near the edge of the rooftop, near where Sherlock had jumped. She didn't sit on the ledge; instead, the teenager opted for just sitting on the floor, staring at her hands. Her body and mind felt numb, foggy, clouded. As she stared blankly, Lucy wondered why Sherlock would have even committed suicide. It just wasn't something he would have done. She frowned, thinking back to when she had to fake her own death. A part of her knew that Sherlock could have easily faked his own suicide if he needed to. But then again, if he had faked it, why would he have left her and John to suffer for so long? She shook her head. It was all just awful and bad. No words could have described her feelings. Her phone buzzed again. With a sigh, she took it out of her pocket. 50 missed calls from John, Lestrade and… Mycroft? She frowned, they rarely heard from Mycroft Holmes other than a quick check in every now and then to see how they were doing. And yet, Lucy knew that he would have had surveillance on them all this time regardless. She wanted to call back or answer as she saw John's name appear on her phone again, but she couldn't find the energy to. A choked sob escaped her lips as she curled up on the concrete rooftop, closing her eyes.

It was about half two in the morning when she startled awake. The night sky was pitch black and dotted with hundreds of twinkling stars from near and distant galaxies. London beneath her was reasonably quiet despite the sounds of cars and the occasional siren. Lucy sat up, wiping away a small tear from the corner of her eye. She groaned as she felt her phone vibrate again.

"Shit." She muttered. The sheer amount of texts and missed calls was enough to make her stomach drop. She saw it was Lestrade who was calling and knowing she had already scared everyone enough- although unintentionally- she answered it.

"Hello," she mumbled, still slightly sleepy.

"Lucy?" She heard Greg's relieved sigh, "Thank fucking god." He took a shaky breath, "You've had everyone so worried, are you okay?"

"I'm fine…" Lucy had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Hey now, don't apologise, I understand it was a really rough day for you." He said softly, "Where abouts are you Lucy?"

"St Bart's." Her voice was shaky.

"On the rooftop?" He asked, but he took her silence as confirmation. "Right we're coming to get you okay. I promise you aren't in trouble. John is with me now and we're on our way."

"Okay…" The teenager could barely contain the tears. She hung up and with a sob, let the tears flow in streams down her cold cheeks. Her stomach rumbled from not eating properly and she gripped it, feeling the bones easily beneath the small bit of fat that was left. The world was spinning around her, blurry through the tears. She rocked back and forth, crying, not knowing how to cope with losing her friend.

"Sherlock…" She whispered his name to the cold night.

She had lost track of time when the sound of footsteps running towards her reached her ears.

"Lucy!" John yelled her name in pure relief as he ran over and knelt beside her. She looked up at him with a tear streaked face and he pulled her in for a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to him and Greg.

"It's okay," John Watson said gently, "What on earth were you doing out here on your own though? You should have let me know you were going out."

"You were too busy," Lucy sobbed. "And you won't tell me the truth. You keep disappearing and I just feel lonely and want to know why…"

"Oh god I'm sorry," John hung his head, "I was just worried to tell you…"

"Please tell me," Lucy had calmed down enough and wiped the tears away.

"Well," John sighed heavily, "I've met… someone." He studied her face and was completely surprised to see her break into a genuine smile.

"That's so great, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Don't be silly," Lucy hugged him, "I'm just happy for you. When can I meet her?" John's face broke into a smile.

Lucy awoke early the next day. After John and Lestrade took her home she had practically fallen straight asleep. She felt tired and achy but stood up anyway and got changed, wearing Sherlock's grey shirt again. Sauntering into the front room, she saw John sat down with a cup of tea and some toast.

"Morning," she mumbled with a smile.

"Morning Lucy," He returned her smile. There was a pause in which he seemed to consider something, "I was wondering, if you're feeling up to it, if you'd like to meet Mary today?"

"Her name is Mary?" Lucy grinned, "I'd love to meet her!"

"Yeah," John laughed, "I was thinking we could all meet in the shopping mall nearby? You mentioned getting some new clothes the other day and Mary loves to shop. So we can meet for lunch and then have a nice day together."

"That sounds great actually," Lucy couldn't stop smiling, feeling genuinely happy for her friend.

After showering, brushing her teeth and getting ready for the day ahead, Lucy strode into the living room where John waited for her. Together, they hailed a cab and got dropped off at the shopping centre. The building was huge! It was three stories high with tons of shops on each level. The outsides of the shops were in great condition, looking shiny and new, the food court smelled delicious and the centre was packed with people. John led Lucy to a coffee shop, where Mary was already waiting outside for them. As soon as she spotted them, Mary's face cracked into a smile and she walked over to them and instantly hugged them both in greeting.

"So you must be Lucy!" She gushed with a big grin, "I've heard so much about you!"

"It's lovely to meet you Mary," Lucy smiled. The woman was very pretty. She was slightly taller than Lucy and had short blonde hair. She was dressed in flats, blue jeans and a white t-shirt topped off with a red coat. Her makeup was minimal but nicely done and her smile was warm and welcoming.

"Do you fancy a drink then?" She nodded at the coffee shop and they all followed her inside.

"She's beautiful," Lucy whispered to John. He looked at the young girl and grinned.

"I have two very beautiful women in my life," He replied, looking at the young girl fondly. Lucy couldn't help but smile. At the counter, John ordered a cappuccino, Mary ordered a latte and Lucy ordered a vanilla latte. Mary and John both got sandwiches, whereas Lucy opted for a fruit salad. Although it was small, John was just pleased she was eating. Once they were seated in the comfy sofas, Mary started talking all about how she met John at the surgery, and how long they had been going out for and how she had been dying to meet Lucy. The conversation was easy and flowed freely.

"I hope you don't mind Lucy," John mentioned, "But I also told Mary how I met you."

"That's fine," Lucy said, "Did you tell her about that case?"

"I haven't yet; I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." John replied, "I've told her all about the other cases though."

"I don't mind at all," Lucy smiled.

"Ooh I do love hearing all about his adventures," Mary said happily, "Have you read his blog? It's hilarious but pretty good actually!" At this, Lucy laughed.

"Thanks for that," John mumbled, blushing, "This case was never aired to the public though…" John went on to recount the first case Lucy was involved in. Mary listened with interest, her face was a picture, happy at times, sad and shocked at others, but at the resolution she was just smiling happily with awe.

"I can't believe you faked your own death," Mary shook her head in disbelief, "John said you were intelligent but gosh."

"It wasn't easy," Lucy said embarrassed, "I was lucky to be honest." Hearing John recount the story was almost comforting for Lucy to hear. To hear him talk about Sherlock, with nobody getting upset just felt good. She'd missed hearing about Sherlock and his great cases and it made her smile to hear John talk so fondly and lovingly about his friend.

After they had finished their food and drinks, Lucy and Mary dragged John around all of their favourite shops. A couple of hours later, they had their hands full with all sorts of shopping bags. Lucy had purchased a leather style jacket, new jeans and clothes from various shops including River Island and Topshop, as well as some perfume, books and drawing supplies including pencils, colouring pencils and a nice looking drawing pad. For Lucy, it had actually been a great day. She didn't feel completely sad for once. There was a warmth inside her that was once long forgotten, gone cold by the death of her friend, her family, and yet, she felt a rush of hope surge through her.

That night, they all had a takeaway at Mary's house. Lestrade was invited along as well to finally meet the lucky lady and all four of them laughed, and talked and got on like a house on fire. It was a fun night, topped off with a game of Cluedo that Mary one, leaving everyone to take the mick out of Lestrade for most of the night.

That night, Lucy felt no need to cut.

A few more months went by. They were reasonably happy ones. John and Mary were happy together and deeply in love and it was a lovely sight to see. John started to grow a moustache much to everyone's disgust, Lucy and Mary would often moan about it when John wasn't in earshot. Lucy had once tried saying it to John's face but he just ignored her and muttered about how Mary liked it, to which he received a snigger. Lucy on the other hand, was still depressed, skinny and sad. She had been trying her best to eat, but there were days when she literally could not force anything into her small stomach without wanting to be sick. More and more scars were lining her body with almost every passing day, now with burn marks joining them. Her body was a mess, and so was her head. But she managed to carry on every day anyway. She had taken to looking at some cold cases for Lestrade, it eased her mind when things were getting too much; she would imagine Sherlock doing the cold cases and it made her happy to be doing the same things he once did. Although she couldn't solve all of them or solve them as fast, she still did a pretty good job of some of them. In her spare time when she wasn't helping Lestrade, she would draw. Pictures of Sherlock soon filled a few pages of her drawing pad. She was terrified of forgetting anything about him. What he looked like, what he smelled like, what he acted like so she was desperate to hold on to any memories she had of him. She put these memories onto paper. Some coloured with delicate colour pencils, others simply shaded with the grey of a granite pencil.

Every now and then she would spend a day with Greg Lestrade, having fun, playing games and watching tv series or movies. She liked to get away from the flat every now and then. He never brought anything serious up unless Lucy started the conversation. She was grateful for that, he tried so hard not to upset her and being with him made her relaxed and happy. Very rarely, Lucy would give Mycroft a text just to see how he was doing. She understood why he didn't pop in to visit them, but at the same time, she actually kind of missed him. He would always reply though and make sure she was doing okay, and every now and then Lucy would catch the sight of a sleek black car nearby.

It had been a year and a half since Sherlock's suicide. The teenager had gone to visit his grave. She laid down flowers and cleaned the headstone, trying not to cry. The night before she had cut badly, all over her arms and legs and she knew some probably needed looking after but she just did not care.

She missed Sherlock Holmes.

Lucy knew he was never a fraud. It was just devastating to know that his death could have been avoided somehow. The detective had since been cleared of all charges after police investigation, which was comforting for both Lucy and John, but it was too late now anyway. It wouldn't change the fact that her best friend, her family, was dead. And this horrible fact hung over her as she made her way slowly back to Baker Street.

At least John had moved on at least a little bit. She thought back to a conversation they had the other day.

"So… you like Mary right?" John had asked tentatively.

"Of course I do," Lucy had laughed as she turned her attention to him, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," he took a deep breath trying not to let the nervousness show, "I was thinking of proposing to her."

"Oh my god John!" Lucy exclaimed in delight. She had ran over to hug him tightly. He seemed shocked at such a positive reaction but very, very happy.

"You'll be a part of our family as well, don't ever forget that," John had said. He'd always wanted her to know that she was wanted. Lucy would often stay at 221B whereas John mainly stayed at Mary's but also stayed round with Lucy a lot. Mrs Hudson was pleased that they were still around a lot and she would often help with the cleaning and sometimes cook delicious meals for them and Mary. They were all like a family.

Lucy sighed as she entered the flat after visiting Sherlock's grave. Nothing seemed right without him. She missed him greatly and it killed her to think about how he knocked her out on the rooftop that day. She just wanted to help him. She ran a hand over her face. The teenager could hear voices upstairs; presumably John and Mary back from their posh dinner. She smiled; John was going to propose to Mary at the restaurant that night, so it was obviously a yes! Lucy bounded up the stairs, excited to see them.

The flat suddenly went silent.

Frowning, Lucy opened the door, wondering what was going on.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Sherlock…" She whispered at the man stood facing her. Behind him, she could see John and Mary with expressionless faces. She looked up at the detective with pure confusion, anger, upset and betrayal. Much to her annoyance, Sherlock Holmes smiled far too confidently and in his deep rumble that she had missed so much, he said:

"Not dead."