Saying Goodbye.
Greg Lestrade watched from the darkness of the trees as Mrs Hudson and John Watson came to pay their respects at the graveside of Sherlock Holmes.
He watched as John touched the headstone and told the empty air that he wished Sherlock wasn't dead.
He knew just how he felt, but he couldn't be with them yet.
As John fought through his tears and turned, his face schooled into an impassive mask that Lestrade could see right through, he felt ashamed of his inaction and his doubt. They had both deserved more from him.
Lestrade was empty inside; he'd given up everything to have Sherlock by his side. He'd lost his marriage to the job, and maybe he'd lost his job for the love of Sherlock.
He'd certainly lost a part of who he was when he'd been told to bring Sherlock in…He should have stood up for what he believed in. He should have fought harder for what he knew was right. Sherlock Holmes was an arrogant, insensitive arse but he was also, always right, and he knew things…things that nobody could or would, want to make up.
He touched the stone and made a vow never to stop fighting for the Sherlock Holmes that he and John Watson both knew and loved.
"Sherlock Holmes, you were the best."