This is the second to the last chapter of the story and I have to thank all of you for your favorites, follows and comments. They mean so much to me. The next chapter will have the links to the rest of the series, or what I have written. It will be updated as time goes by and more is posted. And with the rest of the series, I will be posting that soon as well and the first chapters of those will have links as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock nor any of its previously owned titles.

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June takes a seat at her desk, filing through some papers she had just received from her current assistant, Martin. He was a nice fellow, caring and funny as well. She didn't know too much about him, but she had learned that his mother had just recently died. She tried to give him the month off, telling him she could handle the work on her own.

He had told her no to her surprise. Explaining that this was the best way to help with the loss, she had let him resume to his work and hadn't pushed more than need be. However she did send him home early, whether he wanted to or not.

And today was no exception, it already being eight 'o'clock she was getting ready to tell him to pack up and go home. So she leaves her office to find him at his desk once she's done with all her papers, shuffling her hands into the pits of her pockets she leans into the bar that protruded from where he sat.

She waits as he finishes up whatever he's typing and with a sigh he turns to her. "I really don't need to go home." He voices before she could give him the 'bad' news. "I'm fine, really." June shakes her head.

"Nope. Get a move on." She contemplates his actions before they become a reality and pulls out the chord to his computer, knowing full well he'd already saved everything on his drive. He stands with an aggravated heave, taking his flash drive out of the computer and shoving it in his pocket.

He picks up his coat of his chair, striding his arms through the sleeves and manages to button up in time record. Wrapping his large red scarf around his neck he turns to look at June, a frown on his lips, and before he even leaves his spot he decides a protest is direly needed. Like he does every other night.

"Doctor, really, it doesn't bother me." He leans to his side, his leg keeping contact with his desk to keep steady. "I can stay late, you've got a lot of work and I'd hate for you to do it all by yourself." She thinks it over, knowingly sighing she glances over her shoulder and mentally shoos away the other set of papers on her desk.

When she returns her eyes to his she can see a desperation that can only be matched with hers when she had lost…when she had lost him a year ago. She herself had been constantly looking for work, vigilance for openings that'd seemed too far away.

Just to keep her mind from falling into and endless loop of despair and loneliness. Work kept her out of that pit of insanity where you drown yourself with false hope. A dark, deep place where you could never return from. She'd almost fallen into that pit, almost; but she hadn't because she kept herself busy, for the most part that is.

A lot of the times she was certain she had fallen into that pit and there was no way out.

Biting her cheek she nods, caving into his words and that awful stare in the hopes she'd say yes. "Fine, but I don't want to see you pushing yourself." He nods with a large smile, eyes big in comparison and gives her his thanks.

This is the first time she actually finds his smile…comforting, something she didn't know she'd find any solace in at all. And soon, before she knows it, it will become a source of all her comfort in this horrid world.

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"You see, I've got this rash ridin' up my back." Charles, one of her patients, points out to June as he lifts up his shirt. June, holding back a grimace nods, leaning back to get a better look at the reddening state of his spine. "And it itches." He complains.

"Could you keep that shirt up for me, please?" June questions as she slides on some of her sanitary gloves, the latex gripping onto her skin like a tease. Moving over to his back he obliges and holds the shirt over his head but never truly takes it off. June pokes at the rash before stretching it.

He doesn't hiss or make in annotation that it hurt so the best guess was this wasn't an allergic reaction, even if that were possible it seemed he'd gotten this a while ago too. The rash wasn't even that bad, it only trailed about three inches up his back. But she could see the worry in the situation.

Something catches her eye and pulling her attention to that she sighs, feeling her own stupidity slap in her on the head. "Charles, this is a bite from a mosquito." She's more mad at herself for even skipping over such a simple solution than him coming in for something so stupid.

"But it burns sometimes and I have to constantly itch it." He complains and June feels as if she's on the verge of forcing him to leave.

"Yes, that is what happens when a mosquito bites you." June stands, and after a few more minutes of questions and rashes the man leaves. June settles into her seat and begins to tap her pen on her lip, looking through her schedule with consternation.

She was packed, and it was nearly the end of the day, she'd rather go home and wash up, maybe take a nap? But it appeared she wouldn't be able to do so without a single thought leading to work. So she begins, assigning surgeries and looking over wounds that had been registered.

Who currently needs to be tested and who doesn't. It takes time and she doesn't realize all the time that goes by, it flying past her with solemn grace. Not leaving a track in sight. It isn't until she gets a knock on her door that she's led away from this dull state of hers.

She looks up with befuddlement, nevertheless she allows whoever hides behind her door entrance with a soft 'come in.' She's greeted with Martin, his arms folded over his chest and a frown on his lips.

"Doctor, it's been three hours." He claims and she understands that look he's giving her. She's seen it on many before, but never on him. He's scolding her. "You should have gone home by now, you need some rest." Taking her coat off of her cornered coat rack he marches over, holding it out to her expectedly.

She takes it warily, and with an absent stare she stands. "Aren't you one to talk?" she drapes the warming cloth around her, a playful smirk playing at the hem of her lips. He smiles at this, moving out of her way so she could exit her current stance.

And before she can make it to the door he opens it for her, gliding a hand out as if to push her. She gawks at him, that playful smirk turning soft. "Thank you." Her comment is barely audible, but it's loud enough for him to hear.

"Sure thing." Martin gives her another flashy smile and heads back to his desk, June almost stopping, because for one thing; Telling her to go home and get rest and not do the same thing was too much work on one's self, and two, he technically tricked her.

She crosses her arms against her chest, a forging frown running a muck on her lips. "You need to go home as well, Martin." He brings his attention to her, light shining in his navy blue hues, and he smiles with a joyous she'd never seen on him before.

"Is that an order?"

"Yes, a doctors order." She complies smoothly. With a soft chuckle he nods in defeat, knowing he wouldn't win this one like the last. Taking his jacket he slides it on, a process he'd easily learned and wraps his scarf loosely around his neck.

He shuts his computer off, and with one last huff, grabs his car keys from the neighboring drawer. Shuffling his chair into the desk he leaves and follows after June, keeping pace with her surprisingly fast walk.

He watches her zoom out of the halls, as if she were relieved the day were over, and he didn't blame her. But it was an entertaining thing to watch, certainly.

"You know Doctor, for such a short woman you can pick up some speed, can't you?"

She looks at him, eyebrow lifted and scoffs. And for a moment he believes he's gone too far, and is ready to choke down it words and apologize.

"June." He looks at her, confused.

"What?"

"Doctor is too formal, you can call me June." She nearly gasps at the gelid frost that hits her, wrapping her arms around each other in search for some sort of heat. He gleams at her words, trying to hide the obvious joy that had crept along, but obviously didn't do too well. Because now he was smiling like an idiot and she had none to no clue as to why he'd be so happy over something so small?

"June." He tests, like one does when the dip their toe into the unknown depths of rising water. She nods at him, and they come to a complete halt near the busy street, cars zooming passed as the two look at each other.

She can't help but look at the prominent chin he holds, the strong willful eyes that somehow compared to the ocean, and that perfect jaw line. She could cut cheese with that thing. She wants to move, truly, but can't urge any more movement out of herself. It was like her feet were planted into the cement and if she had moved it would be painful, like standing on nails.

So she leans back, as little as possible as to not make it any weirder than it already was. Martin, seemingly lost as well take swallows thickly before breaking the silence.

"Would you like a ride home? Getting a cabbie out this late can be quiet the bother." Without thinking she nods.

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June wanders the small store, watching as many walk passed her. She can't seem to find the produce isle and it's driving her mad. It should've been the easiest thing to fine, but this new store was hardly helpful. You'd think by now they'd have signs, entry ways, but they don't. It shouldn't even be open. Yet they are, and what really irks her is that so many claimed how great this shop was.

So she hikes up the basket laced to her arm and begins to aimlessly wander in the hopes she might find what she's looking for. You would think that something as large as a produce isle would be easy to find, for it was the largest area of the store, yet she had trouble finding it.

Irate climbed her as she traveled isle after isle until she just stopped and had to check her surroundings.

Candy isle. Great.

She turns to see the sweets lining up the shelves, soda pop on the other side facing the sugar filled sweets. Welcome to diabetic city, where all your weight and dreams of life go under the bus. Not that she had anything wrong with diabetics, they were some pretty strong people, but damn…this was just sickening, to be honest.

"June?" She turns to the sound of her voice, finding Martin standing with a cart in both hands, a welcoming beam dancing on his lips.

She forces a smile on, hoping it didn't look too strained. Though it wasn't long before it grew natural, something she hadn't felt in for ages.

"Martin." She continues, shifting uncomfortably as he gazed at her. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with him in general, but he had caught her in a pretty messy situation. Being that she hadn't bothered to put on make-up or properly do her hair and still wore pajama's was all entirely…uncomforting for her at this moment. "What a surprise to see you here." She adds swiftly as if to catch her own falling words.

He walks over, stopping mid-way to grab something and drop it in his cart. It isn't long before they being chatting, speaking about the long filled days of work, how they were doing and if everything was alright. But it all comes to an abrupt stop when he shy's away from her stare and has to take a deep breath.

"June…Yes, uhm…June?"

"Yeah?" June can feeling an uprising of query bark at the back of ears.

"I was wondering…Would you like to get a drink with me sometime?" She holds her breath, not actually expecting such a question from…well him and has to replay his question in her head a few times over.

She didn't know what to say. Did she like him? Yes, she did…but she didn't know if she was exactly ready to just—move on, persay. Not like this, not only after a year…But maybe it was time? Certainly a year was long enough, and if she felt as if she were ready to take on a simple date, why not go on it.

She liked Martin, he was nice and charming and his looks didn't do him any bad. So why not? What harm could come from a simple drink? Guilt instantly claims her, as if she's thinking the unthinkable, like she's betraying him.

Like she's leaving him for someone else.

But he left her. He had left her all alone, left her to grieve and confide in her already drowning expiry. Left her to grow grey and let all her color leave her absent, devoid of all emotion, absent of all feeling, desperate to feel anything at all.

He had destroyed her.

She deserved this little bit of happiness. She was the only one who could pick up her pieces and she'd do it without feeling that parchment of guilt that seemed to wash over her so easily.

"Sure, why not?" Martins smile seems to double in size, relief down playing him greatly.

"Great…is Saturday good?" She nods.

She holds out her hand and almost instantly he knows what she's asking for. He pulls out his phone and she dials her number in.

"I'll text you my address later, if that's alright?"

"Of course, yeah." She pulls out her mobile and enters his number in as well, and in a moments notice his phone is back in his hands.

"See you Saturday." June beams up, eyes shining and she turns to leave. She needed to find that damned produce isle. She'd ask him, but that was just too embarrassing.

"Actually, June?" She brings herself around, eyeing him. "Do you know where the produce isle is, I can't seem to find it."

Oh, she'd get along with him fine, really fine.