It was three days after the funeral that he showed up. It was not the man he was expecting at all. He hadn't attended but heard through Mycroft the man he thought would show up had been there but this man was not him. This one was tall and handsome, yes, but his hair was a dark black and eyes a piercing green. His face was round and welcoming, smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be on John's doorstep. John had blanked out, thinking he had heard him wrong.

"Who?"

"I'm Victor."

John looked confused and the other man chuckled.

"Victor Trevor. His friend from Uni? He never mentioned me? Not even once?"

John shook his head and let the stranger into his temporary flat.

"I was friends with Sherlock in his university days- before he dropped out... I suppose such an old friend isn't worth his time. He wanted to forget everything about it from back then." Victor looked around the flat and sighed. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." John gestured to one of the seats across from his sofa. He then went to go to the kitchen.

Victor studied him a moment, raising an eyebrow. "You don't look it."

John didn't even look over as he grabbed some cups from the cupboard. "Sherlock never really talked about his university days. Didn't mention you at all, actually."

"That was probably Vince's doing." John froze as he had been about to out the kettle on. "So he did tell you about Vince then. I would hate to have had to keep it from you."

"He told me they were in a relationship once. I thought he might be popping by but-"

"Vince would never do that. Not if he wanted to live." Victor looked as if something foul had been held under his nose. "I suppose he is the reason Sherlock and I no longer spoke. I aided in his departure you see."

John smiled a little, moving back to the sitting room. It was hard to put on the brave face but he managed. "Then I am grateful you cared for him."

"I cared for him deeply. It mostly made him uneasy."

John knew the look that crossed the other man's face. "You loved him."

Victor winced a little at the accusation. Then he nodded. "Yes. He was remarkable. I however could not match Vince in charms. He was also far more attractive. But if he hadn't come into the picture maybe… I think he could have loved me. But it wasn't in the cards. He hated what I did- with a lot of assistance from his brother."

"He knew in the end that what you did was for him."

Victor smiled. "Forgive me then when I say you are not what I expected when Mycroft said Sherlock had fallen in love."

John furrowed his brow. Mycroft's ability to monitor them shouldn't have surprised him after this long. "What do you mean?"

"You are so… Ordinary. I mean that in the best way." Victor's smile brightened. "Then again that may have been the appeal. Sherlock doesn't like people who think they're brilliant when they aren't."

"Didn't," John corrected. His throat suddenly got tight and breathing was a difficult venture to say the least.

Victor's face made the same turn and both men sat in silence. "When I read the article knew it was a lie. No one believed me. They didn't know him so it was easy to judge. Easy to-" He cut off, looking John in the eyes. "You know it's not true, right?"

"Sherlock said it was."

"But do you believe it?"

John opened his mouth. Sherlock had told him to tell everyone that Sherlock Holmes was a fraud, to tell anyone who would listen but- "No. I don't believe it for a second."

"I am glad you took such good care of him. I would have been sad to hear he died alone in the world." Now Victor looked on the verge of tears.

"I am glad to hear there had been love in his life, whether he knew it or not. Real love."

"He knew. I just wasn't… Enough."

"Enough what?"

Victor ran a hand over his face and then through his hair. "I don't know." His eyes wandered over to the mantle and his grim expression broke into a smile. "Is that Keats?" He exclaimed, snatching something from the mantle. He turned, producing Sherlock's companion skull. "He kept this old thing? Seriously?"

"The skull has a name?"

"Well, it was my unofficial name for him. Sherlock never liked Keats. Which is why I found it funny that he had one of Keats' poems read at his funeral."

"He did?"

"Yes, When I have fears."

John thought on that and felt the pressure behind his eyes begin to build. "I love that poem." And he hadn't gone to the funeral. That would have made the experience harder anyway. "It's so incredibly… Tragic."

"Yes, Sherlock has always had a thing for the tragedy. Loved Shakespeare's… Especially Cymbeline." Something in Victor's eyes then made John start. As if it was supposed to be telling. There was something not right about that.

"Isn't-"

But Victor merely grinned and stood. "I'll be off then. It was a pleasure to meet you, John. Even under the grim circumstances."

"Same to you. Have a good day."

Victor didn't wait for John to get up and see him out. Just left him sitting there.

Cymbeline…

Wasn't that the one-

John went to his desk and opened his laptop, searching for the play. He couldn't remember it but he was certain that Cymbeline was not a listed among the tragedies. He read the synopsis and the tiniest glimmer of hope came into being.

"If that's the case I will kill him."