Lestrade rapped lightly on the door, not knowing if he would have it slammed in his face, or be thrown out of the flat. It opened to reveal Mrs Hudson. "Can I come in?" She gave him a wavering smile, opening the door wider to allow him entrance. "He's upstairs...he's not doing so well. Neither am I, really" She closed the door behind him and led him up the stairs.

Greg's chest constricted as he realised, never again would he climb these steps to bring a case to the detective. Never again would he hear another brilliant deduction, never would he hear those sarcastic, dulcet tones, teasing himself, or John or insulting members of the Yard. Never again...those words made him so sad. He was only in the beginning stages of grief. He'd only just found out, only just seen the body of a man who regarded as a friend. He made his way up, with a heavy, guilty heart.

John could hear Lestrade in the room below. How dare he show his face here? He didn;t bother to turn or properly greet the man as he entered the room to stand behind John's armchair. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Lestrade" Lestrade sighed, moving to sit opposite John. "No! Not there. Over there" He pointed to the couch, no one sat in Sherlock's chair. Lestrade made his way to the other piece of furniture and say himself down. "I just came back from Barts...came to see how you were.."

"Really? Were you pleased to see him there? Cold.. lifeless.. were you glad to finally have him out of your hair, tell me Lestrade. He trusted you, I trusted you, but your Yard made him a criminal, a fugitive. I hope you're happy!" John refused to look at the other man.

"John.." Of course I'm not happy! Why would I be? He was my friend too.

"Dr. Watson. You don't get to call me John, not anymore."

"Im not happy, how could you even think that of me? I may not have known him as well as you did, but I have known him for longer. Of course I don't believe the lies. If it had been up to me, he would have never been arrested. I never thought it would come to this.. not for one second"

"Yeah well it did. And I had to see it. I had to hear my best friend break over the phone and then had to watch him ju- .. watch him fall." John's phone beeped. For a split second he expected to see a text from Sherlock. No...he's gone..he gone now. It was from Mycroft. He texted back quickly.

I can't do this, not now. - JW

We have to do this, John. I need to talk with you immediately. I'm on my way over now MH

"Great, thats's just great. Now Mycroft's coming. As if I didn't have enough to deal with right now." Lestrade stared at his feet. "I better go then...I am sorry, John, for what it's worth. I have to live with this guilt for the rest of my life. Knowing that I played a part in the death of a brilliant man." John nodded, waving his hands at the door. "Whatever"

"Actually, you are going nowhere except downstairs with Mrs Hudson, Inspector Lestrade"

"Mycroft!"

"Downstairs. Now."

Lestrade swallowed, nodded at John and followed Mrs Hudson downstairs. "We're not doing this. I can't handle a Holmes here right now. Im sorry." Mycroft sat himself down on the couch, just like Lestrade. "We have to talk. You spoke to him, I need to know what he had to say, John. I must know"

"No.. trust me you don't want to know."

"I know it will be hard for both of us, just tell me. Please"

God why did he have to sound so much like his brother? Why did he have to be so much like his brother? John shook his head, his face twisting in remembered pain. "No.. he.. he was crying. Mycroft I could hear him. Like he was shattering into a million pieces, over the phone. Told me he was a fake. That Moriarty was never real. He wanted me to tell everyone. Tried to convince me it was all a lie. How could he say that? I would never believe it, I never will believe it. Im not stupid."

Oh Sherlock. "Perhaps he thought if you believe him a lie, his..leaving you would not be so painful" John snorted, followed by a hollow laugh. "Well he was wrong. It made it worse. He was breaking, and then broke and now Im that one thats broken. And I can't put the pieces back together. They're gone now. I was so alone... and then he appeared and now he's gone. So I'm back to being alone." His fingers rapped against the side of the chair.

Mycroft nodded, not really listening. His mind solely focussed on his little brother. Now he knew what he was thinking in his last moments. John was right, it only made things worse. This was all his fault. All of it. And he would never forgive himself.

"Thank you John" He stood, picking up his umbrella. "I'll see you again soon. Now I have the Yard to deal with." John suddenly shivered, as if Mycroft's mere words had made his blood run cold. No one crossed a Holmes, especially if their name was Mycroft.

He took the steps, two at a time and landed right next to the Inspector. "Come, Greg, I have some business to take care of with some employees of yours."

"Business? What business? Hey wait up! What business!"