A/N: So this is it! Here is the last chapter to Before the Snow!

To the 51 (OMG) followers: You guys are amazing! Seeing this many people is what helped me continue writing this.

To those who wrote a review: You guys are also super amazing and I appreciate the reviews, it helps me by letting me know I'm on the right track.

But alas we must come to an end. So I'm hoping that I may be able to write another one but until then please enjoy the final chapter.

R&R and Enjoy!

~Epilogue: Spring~

~7 Years Later~

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

"Thanks again Holmes for the help on such short notice," Captain Gregson said.

"No problem at all," Sherlock replied while checking his phone.

"How's Joan doing?"

"Quite well, but of course you can ask her yourself later this evening. If you excuse me I have some matters to attend to before this evening's dinner," Sherlock said as he made his way to leave the precinct. On his way out he walked passed Detective Bell's desk, which caused a nagging to occur in his mind. Joan wanted to make sure that he was invited to this evening's gathering.

"Will we be seeing you this evening?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you guys mind if I bring a friend?"

"If you are referring to a Miss Nicole, then yes." Marcus just looked at him. "I'll have you know that Joan beat me to this observation." At this statement he just simply laughed.

Sherlock stood at the gravestone of the patient that had died in Joan's charge. The man that he could never meet. Yet, this man had done so much for him. If it hadn't been for his death, Joan would had remained a surgeon. She would have also been with that other man, tall, blonde hair. She would have never become a sober companion. He wanted to pay his respects but hadn't found the right thing to say every time he came to the headstone.

"I'm sorry, but thankful," Sherlock said as he placed a hand on the headstone.

When he entered the brownstone he was hit with a mix of aromas. Joan was cooking. She surprised Sherlock with her knowledge of cooking. He had questioned as to why she never really cooked before and her response was that he did not give her ample time to prepare a proper meal.

As he was fumbling with his coat he was attacked by a petite figure.

"DADDY!" it screamed as it jumped towards him. The child's game was to try to catch him off guard. But since he was the Great Sherlock Holmes, the child always lost the game. He caught her and hugged her.

"How's my little girl?"

"Good," she said with a big smile. The smile reminded him of Joan's. Much of the little girl's features reminded him of her. But there were certain things that were most definitely Sherlock. "Mum's been cooking all day," she said with an exaggerated sigh for emphasis. Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sherlock! Make sure she brushes her hair!" Joan called from the kitchen. In response the little girl huffed and pouted. Sherlock put her down and she stomped upstairs to her room to – most likely – brush her hair. Sherlock made his way to the kitchen where Joan was.

"I take it she didn't win today," Joan said with a light chuckle as she turned to face him as he stood in the doorway.

"Not quite," he said as he made his way over and gave her a passionate kiss.

"I need to finish cooking Sherlock," she said with a small laugh. He was kissing his way down her neck and would have gone further if it weren't for the sound of little feet thundering down the stairs. Joan laughed at him. "I'll finish later," he whispered before she shooed him away so she could finish cooking.

"When are they getting here? They were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!" the six year old girl complained. Just then there was a knock at the door and the child rushed off to it excitedly. Sherlock followed after her. He found that when he became a father he became a bit more…protective of Joan and his daughter.

He watched as she greeted their friends and rush off to the kitchen to her mum.

"Mummy, Uncle Marcus, Alfredo and the Captain are here!" she said as she rushed back to the guests.

There were some things that they really couldn't change. They couldn't quite find a proper title for Captain Gregson and so his daughter simply calls him Captain. He doesn't seem to mind. Alfredo did not wish for a title. However, Detective Bell was willing to entertain the idea of being an uncle to his daughter. And though he would never say it to him, it meant a lot to Sherlock.

Tonight was his turn to tuck their daughter to bed. He carried her upstairs to her room since she was falling asleep on the couch.

"Daddy," the little girl said just as Sherlock was about to leave the room.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me a bedtime story?"

"It was quite a lovely evening," Sherlock said then kissed Joan on the cheek as he helped clean the dishes. Their guests had stayed a bit and they all chatted while having some desserts.

As Joan was finishing the dishes Sherlock put some music on and pulled his wife away from the sink and into a dance frame.

"I'm not sure if you realize but you have made me the luckiest man Mrs. Holmes," he whispered to her before kissing just underneath. Joan laughed.

"I think I have an idea."

"But I don't think you will fully comprehend it," he said then he kissed her with all the passion he had to try to explain to her.

"I think you have made your point," she said out of breath.

"Not quite," he said as he lifted her and carried her bridal style to their room.

He had everything he never had. He had his calling of being a detective. He had his wife, Joan. He even had a daughter. He had friends, people he could rely on. At this moment, Sherlock's life was complete. He couldn't ask for more. Except maybe an interesting case, one that would require both him and his wife. He secretly took enjoyment in working with her on cases.

THE END!

A/N: THANK YOU AGAIN SUPER MUCH!