Author's Note

I just want to take the time to thank you all. For your support, for believing in my friend. For not believing the lies. It means more to me than you will ever know.

I know it's somewhat odd to release a book after I have written about the death of Sherlock Holmes. But I felt that I needed to finish Memoirs first. I had been putting it off for far too long. Fortunatly I had almost finished this book. I'm grateful to a man who will go un-named, for getting my books through the publishing process faster than normal and I'm glad to be able to honor the memory of my best friend in this manner.

I still miss him, everyday. It saddens me that no one will took the time to know him as I did. They only saw the cold exterior, they never bothered to look behind it as I did and see the lonely, vulnerable boy. To see a man which a morbid sense of humour, who could make me laugh and cry in a matter of minutes. Who drove me up the wall but who I couldn't help but like. I saw the laughter, I saw the smiles, the cheeky antics, I saw the real Sherlock. It's a pity no one else got the chance.

And now he's gone. No amount of wishing can bring him back. He died a hero and I am so bloody proud. He once told me there was no such things as heroes and if there were, he wouldn't be one of them. How wrong he was, for once I was right, but I wish he wasn't my proof. The pain still hurts, as a solider, I know in some way it always will. What still scares me is the fact that it's almost been a year. And that one day that will be two years and three years. One day I'll look back and this will all have been a distant memory. These will all be stories I sit down and tell my children about and my grandchildren.

I want to move on from the pain but not from the memory of my best friend. Writing these books has been my therapy, my way of insuring he will always be remembered in the pages of history but most importantly, I can sit down and be immersed in the world I miss whenever I open the covers of these books. And I hope you can all sit down and join me.

Thank you.

John H. Watson.

"You certainly know how to break a person's heart John" His publisher dabbed at the corner's of her eyes. John looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just write what I feel. Maybe it's a bit sensationalised but.."

"I like it. But then I've liked all the books so far."

"Thank you"

"No, thank you. I will make sure it's published as soon as possible. Speaking of which, Memoirs went out on the shelves yesterday, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you." John's face lit up. "That's great! I got my copy in the mail already but thats.. thats really great!" The publisher's face broke into a smile. "I've scheduled the book launch for a Thursday two weeks from now."

"Will Hounds even be out by then?"

"With your luck, I wouldn't be surprised. But with Christmas coming up I don't want to take any chances, I want these stories to fly off the shelves!"

"Thank you, I can't wait! Wow, this is, all happening so fast. But I guess thats how I like things." He stood and shook her hand. "See you in two weeks."

"In two weeks Mr Watson"

Sherlock sat on the couch, moping. It was cold, so he was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown with a thick, woolly blanket wrapped around him. Mycroft observed him from one of the other arm chairs, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His brother looked bored, sad, lonely and lost. He wished he could do something but nothing he had said ever seemed to get through to him. Except, perhaps one thing. He stood suddenly and left the room, Sherlock looked up confused, had he done something wrong? No, Mycroft would have said. Wouldn't he?

His brother soon returned with a stack of files, sitting back down and searching through each one, rejecting them. Until he stopped and placed the others to his side. "Here Sherlock" The file was handed to him. It was one of the aliases they had come up with at the start of all this. It had gone unused because they had found little need for it. So why was Mycroft giving this to him now? "I don't understand" His brother then handed him a package. Inside were three of John's books. Sherlock already had Normund's copies, this looked well loved and dog-eared. They had no inscription on the inside. "Why have you given me these?"

"These are you own copies, or rather, Basil's own copies."

"Basil...?"

"You don't like the name?"

"It's not.. a bad name. But Baker? Basil..Baker?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"..Nothing.. Basil Baker is fine. It's a ..good name"

"It was either Basil or Benedict. And Basil sounded better in my opinion"

Maybe this is why I normally choose the names, thought Sherlock as he re-read the file. "You will be going undercover to John's book launch next week." Sherlock looked up in surprise. "He's having a book launch next week? Why.. why am I going? Is he in danger? Mycroft, if John is in danger, it's in his best interest for you to cancel the launch" Mycroft gave his brother a small smile. "If he was, I would, but he isn't"

"But then why...?"

"Sherlock, I know how much you miss your friend and as much as we would both like to reveal you're alive, it's unsafe to do so. I can't stand to watch you wander these rooms like a lonely ghost any longer. If this will brighten your day for just awhile, then I'm willing to let you go see him. But only in disguise."

"Mycroft I...thank you"

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Don't mention it. Now, do you think you can act the part? You haven't exactly been the cheeriest of persons lately. You don't even truly smile anymore. Can you pull this off?" Sherlock looked down at the file. Basil seemed just the sort of person John might take a liking too and a welcome alternative to Normund and more importantly himself. The more he thought about this, the more excited he became and an old spark that had been missing in his eyes lit up. It might not last for long, they both thought, but for now, something that had been missing for so long was rekindled once more. And that was all that really mattered in the end.

Irene had been delegated stylist, with Molly's help as the expert on all things adorable. Which is what she had dubbed Basil. No.. not adorable, it was some other word. Adorkable. What did that even mean? They had dyed his hair, a process he had not missed and Irene had cut it as well. It was short, just above his ears, but still long. Much like a bowl cut style but fair trendier, according to Irene anyway. She normally knew these sorts of things. Molly had suggested thick, dark rimmed glasses to make his eyes seem bigger and chocolate brown contact lenses. Irene had insisted on some makeup to make him look less pale and hide his fading facial scars.

Then came the clothes. In the end, Irene had surrendered to Molly's choices. Though they debated over the colours. Sherlock felt he had no say in this at all. A dark brown hoodie was selected, Molly really liked hoodies, as well as a pair of faded blue jeans. Next came a top to wear underneath. A white tee with a talking bee. Why was it talking? Why did it have a smiling face? Molly thought it was cute and made the excuse that it was a play on his alias' name, Basil Baker, B.B. So Irene had started to call him Baby. Wonderful. Life couldn't get any more annoying. The outfit was finally finished off with a pair of brown and gold, tartan converse shoes...and crutches?

"Why crutches?" Sherlock finally found his voice.

"Basil is describe as clumsy, plus you can shorten your height by slouching over. And...Sherlock you do have a bit of a limp remember?"

"..No I don't"...It's not psychosomatic.. it really is still injured.

"Yes well, it's safer you use these. Cuter too!"

"Crutches..are cute?"

"On you they will be! Now off you pop and get changed"

He looked like a completely different person. He didn't even recognise himself in the mirror. Sure the lips and cheekbones were still there and the nose, but everything else was not Sherlock Holmes but Basil Baker. He only hoped it was enough to fool John Watson. He didn't want to fool John, he wanted nothing more than to reveal that he was not dead but in fact alive but his friends safety hung in the balance and Sherlock believed John would not like the man he had become.

Irene grinned at her handiwork when Sherlock stepped out and Molly almost squealed in delight, taking a photo to add to her ever growing album. "Are you ready for this Sherlock? Really?"

"No...but I don't care. I have to go. I have to see him." Irene patted his arm and handed him the canvas shopping bag that carried his books and several personal items such as a fake phone, wallet, reciets etc, even a small digital camera. He gave her a small, grateful smile.

"Good luck" They both told him.

"Thank you" He replied and followed his brother out the doorway, his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

"Oh calm down John. Deep breaths. It's just a book launch"

"I know but.. it feels like such a big deal"

"The worst is over, you made the speech, you've had your tea, and in a minute you will go back out their to your adoring public and sign many, many books."

"That's really not helping Mary" She stuck out her tongue. "Oh now you're just being childish"

"Says the man who spent all of Tuesday in only his pants because he was too lazy to put his clothes in the washing machine?"

"Aw come on, I did that one time!"

"Or the man who spent yesterday watching Finding Nemo"

"It's a good movie!"

"For children"

"For everyone. Anyway, I'm just nervous thats all. There are a lot of people out there that I know. This is just a really big deal. And fans can get a little...fanatic"

"I know John. I know this means a lot to you. Now, come on." She fixed his tie and followed him out of the office.

"Thank you for coming, have a nice day!"

"Wow, I love your badge!" John grinned and the little girl with pigtails. "Have you read all these books?"

"Yep! Well.. daddy helped me."

"You have a great daddy" She giggled. "What story was your favourite?"

"Umm.. the one with the ninjas! Did Mr Sherlock have a lotta constumes?"

"Oh tons. I used to tease him about it all the time"

"You must miss him very much"

"Yes I do." He finished signing her books and handed them back to her father. "Thank you Mr Watson!" John gave her a wave and sighed. "Boy, my hand is aching and look at that line!"

"No rest for the wicked dear John"

"Wicked am I Mary?"

"Positively evil" They shared a grin before John turned his attention to the next fan.

"Hello, nice to meet you!" John smiled and looked up into the young man's face. He was young, with reddish-brown hair and oversized glasses. He seemed serious for a moment, as if studying John and then his face suddenly broke into a huge goofy smile and John himself couldn't help but smile back

"Hello!..My name's Basil! It's really awesome to finally meet you!"