Tyler stared down at Clara from the roof of Bart's hospital, her phone pressed against her ear, "It's a trick," she told her, her voice tearful, "Just a magic trick."

"No," Clara snapped, looking up to her from below, and even from the roof Tyler could see her shaking her head, "All right, stop it now," she began to head back over towards the hospital entrance.

"No, stay exactly where you are," she called urgently, holding out a hand towards her, "Don't move."

Clara stopped and backed up, holding her own arm up towards the blonde in surrender, "All right."

Breathing hard, Tyler didn't lower her hand, "Keep your eyes fixed on me," she said sternly, her voice growing frantic again, "Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?"

"This phone call... it's- it's my note," she paused, swallowing, keeping the act going while behind her two men discreetly began to drag Moriarty's body across the roof, unseen by Clara, and over to a doorway. She didn't react, didn't even glance back at them, her entire focus still fixed down below on Clara, "It's what people do, don't they, leave a note?"

Clara didn't answer at first, lowering the phone from her ear to press against her chest as she stared up at Tyler, before lifting the phone back up to her ear, "Leave a note when...?" she purposely trailed off, her voice shaking as it broke.

"I've had the most fun in the world," Tyler told her. "Goodbye, Clara."

"No," she shook her head urgently, her breathing growing panicked, "Don't".

Meanwhile, as Tyler and Clara had been speaking, the two men that had dragged Moriarty's body stepped inside a service lift inside the building, lying the body out on to the floor and quickly dressing the body in a long black coat that was just like Tyler's and a blonde wig. One of the men opened up a large black case that they had brought to reveal a latex mask, a perfect replica of Tyler's face in every detail. The second man closed the lift's doors as the first man carefully used a pair of tweezers to extract a Hazel contact lens from a glass container. Back on the roof, Tyler gazed down at Clara for a long moment, before she tossed the phone aside to land on the roof behind her, looking back up across the city.

"TYLER!" Clara screamed up to her, her entire focus on her.

The two men continued to work; carefully inserting the Hazel contacts into Moriarty's unblinking eyes, before the second man very carefully picked up the mask and placed it over Moriarty's face, grabbing a scalpel from the case and using it to lift the closed eyes of the mask, while the first man placed a blonde wig over Moriarty's slicked back hair, making the body look exactly like Tyler if seen from far away.

Still on the roof, Tyler held her arms out at her sides and allowed herself to fall forwards, plunging off the roof while Clara watched on in horror, taking a step forward, only for a man on a pushbike to suddenly come up from behind her and slam into her, sending her crashing onto the very hard road surface, hitting the side of her head. Tyler was still plummeting to the ground; only what Clara hadn't seen was that she actually had a long, thick bungee cord attached to the back of her coat.

Molly Hooper gasped as she stood inside the hospital, watching from a window as Tyler plunged passed, the bungee cord trailing behind her while, back on the ground, Clara groaned and winced painfully, trying to stop herself from losing consciousness. Finally, with less than a meter to the ground, Tyler's bungee cord stopped her descent and she was yanked back up to the same floor Molly was watching from, her arms flailing around for a moment before she covered her face and managed to swing herself over to the window, smashing through it and sending glass flying. Molly gasped again, flinching back as she came to land smoothly on her feet. She unclipped the bungee cord from the back of her coat, letting it fly back up to the roof, and straightened her coat before dusting the shards of glass from her hair. She looked up to Molly and flashed her a smile, raising her hand to give the girl a high five before she strolled passed her and out of the room.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the two men that had completely disguised Moriarty's body as Tyler's dragged the body out of the lift and into the street, placing it on the ground where Tyler should have fallen, positioning it to make it look as if it had, and began squirting fake blood around the pavement and over the body. Other people began hurrying into position around the body, some made out to look like hospital staff in blue scrubs, all pretending to be shocked and concerned.

As Clara began to pull herself upright from the road, she looked back over towards the body to see all the people gathered around it, half blocking her view. She winced as she got onto her feet, when a man approached her, wearing a dark blue coat, and stepped into his path.

"Clara," the man, actually Darren Brown, a famous illusionist and hypnotist, said as he blocked Clara's view of the body. He placed a hand on Clara's shoulder, "Clara. Look at me. Look at me," Clara blinked and looked at him, "And... sleep!" he ordered, putting his hand over Clara's eyes. She collapsed into Darren's arms, her eyes closed as the man gently began to lower her back down onto the ground, "Right the way down, right the way deep, right the way sound asleep," he carefully eased her back onto her side on the ground, "That's right. That's good, keeping my voice just there in the centre of your head and floating all the way around you," while he spoke calmly, he reached for Clara's watch and wound it back a few minutes. He slowly began to stand, looking back down at Clara, "And you will awaken in three, two, one..." Clara grimaced, starting to move, "...zero," he flipped the hood of his jacket up and walked away.

Clara's eyes opened and she groaned, a funny ringing in her ears as she looked back across to the people gathered around Tyler's body. "Tyler..." She pulled herself onto her feet and stumbled across to the crowd, trying to push her way through, "Tyler... Let me come through, please," he told them desperately as some of the crowd tried to hold him back, "No, she's my friend... She's my friend, please..."

Clara's knees gave way beneath her, the shock of seeing her friend's bloody body on the pavement and the knock to her head simply too much for her to take, half supported by a pair of arms she didn't know belonged to John. Two paramedics arrived with a stretcher and, with the help of two doctors from the crowd; they lifted the body up onto the bed and wheeled it off into the hospital.

"Bollocks!" Lestrade exclaimed, shaking his head as he looked at Anderson, who had just spent the past several minutes telling him possibly his most ridiculous theory about how Tyler had survived. They were standing outside a small mobile coffee stand before work, just outside Scotland Yard, holding their coffee cups, when he had made the mistake of actually asking Anderson to tell him about his latest theory in an attempt to kill some time. It truly had been a very bad idea.

"No, no, no, no!" Anderson said hurriedly, a slightly deranged look in his tired eyes. Lestrade had hoped that by getting his job back, the man would have pulled himself together and started rebuilding his life, but sadly that wasn't the case and he was still sporting the wild beard and his hair was unwashed. He looked like a mess, "It's obvious!" he continued, smiling, "That's how she did it! It's obvious!"

"Darren Brown?" he gave him an incredulous look, laughing at how absurd the entire thing sounded. He was lucky he hadn't been drinking his coffee when Anderson had told him the next part; otherwise he probably would have completely spat it down his front. "Let it go, Tyler is dead."

"Is She?" he questioned, pointing a skeptical finger at him, a slight grin still on his face. Nothing would ever convince him that he was wrong, nothing, because if anyone could have survived something like that it would be Tyler Jackson.

"There was a body," Lestrade replied, unable to find any excuse to deny Tyler's death, "It was her. It was definitely her. Molly Hooper laid her out," he lifted his cup up to his mouth to take a drink.

"No, she's lying. It was Jim Moriarty's body with a mask on!"

Lestrade swallowed his mouthful of coffee, lowering his cup to stare at him, "A mask?" he repeated, scoffing as Anderson nodded eagerly, "A bungee rope, a mask, Darren Brown?" he shook his head, sighing heavily, "Two years, and the theories keep getting more stupid," he looked back to Anderson, "How many more've you got for me today?"

Anderson's smile slipped slightly, but he still seemed quite eager to keep talking, "Well, you know the paving slabs in that whole area, even the exact ones that she landed on, you know they were all..." he began quickly.

"Guilt," Lestrade cut him off, pointing at him with the same hand that was holding his coffee cup. His expression grew sterner, "That's all this is," Anderson looked away from him, "You pushed us all into thinking that Tyler was a fraud, you and Donovan," he continued, and Anderson lowered his head guiltily, "You did this, and it killed her, and she's staying dead," he took a step back from him, before pausing again, "Do you honestly believe that if you have enough stupid theories, it's gonna change what really happened?" he gave him one last lingering look before turning on his heel and walking away from him.

"I believe in Tyler Jackson!" Anderson called after him, his voice shaking slightly.

Lestrade paused, looking back to him, "Yeah, well that won't bring her back," he told him, continuing on his way and approaching where a group of reporters had set up.

"...that after extensive police investigations," the first reporter was saying as he stood before his crews camera, "Richard Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty..."

"...amidst unprecedented scenes," a second male reporter was saying into another camera, "There was uproar in court as Tyler Jackson was vindicated and cleared of all suspicion..."

"...but sadly," a third female reporter was also speaking, "All this all comes too late for the detective who became something of a celebrity two years ago..."

"...questions are now being asked as to why the police let matters get so far," the first reporter went on.

Lestrade and Anderson stood side by side a short distance behind the camera crews, still clasping their coffee cups while they watched the reporters.

"Tyler Jackson fell to her death from the top of London's Bart's Hospital," the second reporter added, "Although she left no note, friends say it's unlikely she was able to cope with..."

"Well then," Lestrade remarked, turning back to Anderson, raising his cup, "Absent friends. Tyler."

Anderson hesitated, before slowly raising his own cup, "Tyler," he said sadly, lightly tapping their cups together in toast.

"And may God rest her soul," he finished, and they both took a sip in memory of their fallen friends.

~*~

Tyler stepped out of her bathroom of the small safe house Mycroft had set up for her. She had just gotten back in from Serbia about a week ago, tying off the last few loose ends of James Moriarty's very tangled web. She'd done it. She knew she'd done it when she saw the news about a week later. She had almost dropped her tea cup when it had been announced on her TV that she had been vindicated, that the truth was finally out there, and everyone knew that it had Jim, who had made up the whole thing about her being a fraud. 

It may have taken two years for the truth to finally come out and a lot of hard work and long nights of torture on her end, but it was finally over. This was just the first step in her being able to go back home, to see John and Clara again, and Sherlock... 

She missed them all being together. 

Tyler toweled at her wet hair as she moved around the small kitchen in the cottage Mycroft had set up for her. For the past two years she'd spent there, rarely ever home as she flew all around the world trying to fix the mess that was James Moriarty. But, the times she had been home Mycroft would come to visit her, and it was a nice reminder of her normal life, when she saw him it kept her from falling into this cold stone killer once more. Of course there were times when she had to, but this time instead of it being for a quick buck it was a means to an end. It was strange to see a different side to Mycroft, not the business man, but a friend. She never thought she'd ever say that about the older Holmes, but now she was starting to see why Bree hung around him. He could be quite fun to be around when he stepped out of his British Government persona. 

She usually never really got dressed up when she was home for the day, staying in a t-shirt and sweats, sometimes throwing on a pair of jeans when she had to run to the store. But, after seeing the news report she had a feeling Bree would be swinging by to take her to Mycroft, if he didn't come himself. But, something told her he wouldn't. 

So now she had on royal purple top tucked into a black pencil skirt with a black blazer over top and a pair of black wedged heels to match. She had clipped half her hair back to let it hang down to the center of her back in wet waves and had applied some mascara and lip gloss. She had also picked out a pair of rose shaped black studs and a matching rose necklace. She set out two tea cups and began to fill the cups as she heard the front door open from down the hall followed by the sound of heels clicking against the tile. 

She felt her lips twitch up into a half smile, that would be Bree. She was glad to know she hadn't lost her touch during her isolation. She put a spoonful of honey into each cup and stirred quietly, waiting for her older sister to come into the kitchen where she was. 

"I forget," Tyler finally spoke up. "Do you take sugar in your Tea?" She asked not looking up from what she was doing. 

The clicking of the heels came to a stop and she could feel the smile directed her way, "has it really been that long sister?"

"You never did bother to come visit me like Myc did." Tyler muttered, finally turning to face her sister with a sarcastic smile and the two cups of Tea in her hands.

As always she seemed like she just walked straight from a job interview, even her casual clothes consisted of a half pant suit. She was wearing a black, sleeveless blouse tucked into a grey pencil skirt over a pair of maroon legging and a pair of black knee high boots. Her hair had gotten longer and she had recently opted to straightening it rather than leaving in its wild curls. She had on matching maroon lipstick and smokey eye shadow with a pair of diamond studs in her ears as the black and maroon clutch she carried rested on the counter with her hands draped elegantly over it. 

"It's Myc now?" Bree quirked an eyebrow and Tyler just then seemed to realize what she said. 

Tyler pursed her lips, setting the cup down in front of her sister, "if I didn't know any better I'd say you sound jealous."

Bree let out a short laugh, her way of saying she was anything but amused, "I stayed behind, if I were to take random 'vacation days' with Mycroft, people might talk."

"You'd think they'd talk if you didn't go," Tyler quipped raising the cup to her lips. "You follow him around everywhere, like a lost pup." She added, before taking a small sip of the drink, ignoring the withering look her sister sent her. "Why didn't Mycroft come himself?"

"Oh, I volunteered," Bree pushed the cup aside and Tyler rolled her eyes, what a waste. "It's time to come home, dear sister." Tyler felt her hands tighten around the cup as she willed herself to keep a blank face. Though, she had expected that's why Bree had come down all this way, it was different to actually hear the words, confirm the thought. 

Finally, she laughed, completely delighted that within only a few short hours she would be back in London, back to her old life, and, most exciting of all, she would be able to see Sherlock and Clara possibly even John again. Sadly, a rather pressing thought crossed her mind and she sighed, "why now?"

Bree simply smirked at her, "I think I should leave that part up to Mycroft, hm?" Bree didn't wait for a response before turning and leaving. Tyler frowned, hurrying to set her cup in the sink before following after her sister, she was kind of excited to see Mycroft again, it had been a couple months since his last visit. 

The ride to the Helicopter was short, it was the actual flight back to London and to Mycroft's office that had taken quite a while. She didn't bring anything with her from the small cottage, knowing that all her real things were still at her flat with Clara. The thought of seeing Clara again brought a smile to her face that made Bree eye her weirdly. 

Bree led her a few doors down until they came to one seemingly unassuming door, only this one on closer inspection was slightly different. There was a small key code panel beside the door and a camera was directly facing the door from above so that anyone approaching could easily be seen. She swiftly entered the code; Tyler didn't even bother to look away because unless Mycroft had changed it in the past two years, she still remembered it from her time visiting his office while they had made plans. The doors lock clicked open and Bree pushed the door open, stepping back to let Tyler enter first.

Mycroft's office was small and very grey, with a large painting of the Queen hanging on the wall behind his large desk. There was nothing personal about the room, no pictures or knickknacks. Personally, Tyler couldn't help but find the room rather depressing, everything just seemed to be a different shade of grey and there was no natural sunlight due to it having been built underground. Perhaps that's why Mycroft was like he was; his depressive office was starting to rub off on him. What the room desperately needed was some bright colour and soft furnishes, in other words, a woman's touch. 

"You really need to lighten up this room Myc," Tyler spoke up, keeping her eyes dancing around the room rather than at the man sitting behind the desk. "It's such a drag."

"Mycroft is my name, if you could struggle all the way to the end, that would be great." He said sarcastically and Tyler turned amused eyes on him. 

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement, a look that she didn't wear as often anymore so it was a nice comfort to see she was still capable of having fun. "I've missed you too, Mycroft," She drew out his name purposefully, noticing his mouth twitch slightly. She strolled over to the small fridge in the corner and she gestured to it, "may I?"

"If it so pleases you." 

She smirked back at him as she popped open the fridge, "I bet you say that to all the girls." She gave him a cheeky smile, hearing Bree scoff in disgust in the background. 

"Dear, God." She rolled her eyes. 

Tyler laughed at that, ignoring the looks she got from both Bree and Mycroft, the latter's more flustered than dark like Bree's was. She shifted through the fridge and sighed in frustration when there wasn't a single snack in sight, he really was sticking to the diet thing this time. Instead, she settled for grabbing a water bottle, "You still owe me a drink." 

"Do I?" He inquired. He had come over for the game a couple months back and after getting a few drinks in him to lighten him up, they started betting on who would win. She won, which surprised her - to actually beat Mycroft Holmes. 

"Yes, you do." She leaned her one hand against the desk, shifting her body weight as she looked around the office once more. "So, what's the case?"

He actually seemed slightly surprised, "Case?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, "Obviously there is a case," she said tiredly, running a hand absently down the front of her skirt, "You wouldn't have gone to all the effort to bring me back if there wasn't something important going on. If it was a visit you would've just come yourself. Therefore, I can only conclude that there must be a case, no doubt something to do with the government or national importance, knowing you. 

Mycroft smirked at her, looking strangely pleased, "I'm glad to see that retirement hasn't slowed you down, Tyler," he commented.

She grinned at him, "Not a chance, Mycroft." 

Mycroft cleared his throat, looking back to Tyler, "You're quite right," he admitted much to Tyler's pleasure. "There is an active terrorist cell underground in London with an attack imminent."

"A terrorist cell?" she repeated, mildly surprised by the news, "I certainly am being thrown straight into the fire, aren't I?"

Mycroft fixed her with a stern look, "I need you to give this matter your full attention," he told them, "Is that quite clear?"

Tyler quirked an eyebrow, he was always so bossy. She instead turned her attention down to her water bottle, "so, you're really sticking to your diet this time, huh?" Pretending as if she hadn't just heard a word that he had said.

"Tyler!"

Tyler smiled slightly, amused, "Personally, I think you look fine the way you are, but if you want to be healthier, I've heard it's the more preferred choice." It was childish, yes, but it was always amusing to see Mycroft annoyed.

"Miss Jackson!"

Tyler rolled her eyes, tossing him a wide smile, "don't get your knickers in a twist," she shook her head at Mycroft, who looked ready to start throwing a tantrum over the fact that she didn't seem to be taking it seriously, "I'll find your underground terror cell, Mycroft," she assured him. "But, I may need some help."

Mycroft's face seemed to darken at what she was implying, "he's not in the best of shape these days, Tyler."

"What?" Tyler frowned, not understanding what he was trying to say. "What do you mean?"

Mycroft opened his mouth to respond, but Bree cut him off, "One of our men died getting this information," she informed her from where she was standing behind her younger sister, frowning at them both. Tyler blinked slightly in surprise, having almost completely forgotten she was even in the room, "All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there's going to be a terror strike on London," she continued, "A big one."

"What about Sherlock?" She asked, trying to turn the conversation back to what her and Mycroft had been just talking about. But, neither answered. "And Clara and John?"

"Clara?" Mycroft frowned, seeming surprised by the question, "John?"

Tyler looked back at him pointedly, knowing he was just playing dumb, "have you seen them?"

"Oh, yes," he began sarcastically, "We meet up every Friday for fish and chips," Tyler narrowed her eyes at him as he waved his hand at Bree, who stepped forward and handed Tyler a folder, "I've kept a weather eye on them, of course," he watched as Tyler flipped the file open. There were a couple black and white surveillance photos of John and Clara with a quick report attached, but it was the photo of John with a rather impressive mustache that really caught her eyes, dating back only a few weeks ago, "You haven't been in touch at all, to prepare them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Any of them?"

"No," Tyler said distractedly, staring at the picture of John and his mustache with a slight grimace. "You know Sherlock better than I do, if he knew I was alive would he allow me to handle James Moriarty myself?"

"I supposed not."

"Exactly," Tyler shook her head, balancing the folder in one hand as she picked up the picture for her to see more clearly, looking rather appalled by the new bit of hair John seemed to think suited him, "Neither would Clara or John for that matter." Tyler shook her head, waving a hand at the photo, "Well, we'll have to get rid of that."

"'We?'" Mycroft repeated, eyeing her quickly. 

"Hmm," Tyler hummed in agreement, still looking appalled by the image, "Poor John, he really doesn't have the face that can pull off something so daring as a mustache," she commented, shaking her head, "It makes him look like he's aged over twenty years." She sighed heavily tucking the photo back into the file before tossing it onto Mycroft's desk. "How on earth could Sherlock and Clara let him get away with that." Mycroft gave Bree a quick nod. The other blonde woman turned on her heel and walked back across the room, disappearing out of the door and closing it behind her.

***

Clara was sitting at her Grams kitchen table, trying desperately to ignore the dirty look her Grams had been giving her. As the two years went by, she had been checking in with the older woman less and less not wanting to come back to Baker Street since moving out and into a small house with John a couple miles out. She couldn't bare to see the flat she once shared with Tyler, that and she couldn't see Sherlock in the condition he was. She and John had tried, the three of them, to move on and keep going together, but Sherlock wouldn't have it. 

At first he threw himself into trying to prove that Tyler was indeed alive, trying to track her down and trying to find any strange occurrences, but didn't find anything, by the end of the first year he had given up completely and started trying to track down some of James Moriarty's contacts and dissemble his web. She had no doubt he had fallen off the wagon, but no matter how much she tried the more bitter he got the more he disappeared, less like himself. It had gotten to the point where she couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him, he was always so angry and half out of his mind. 

She had given up trying to save him, no one could save him if he didn't want to be. 

Mrs. Hudson slammed down a small tray on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts and she turned her eyes down to the cup and saucer and a jug of milk. She watched the older woman cross the room to pick up a plate of biscuits that she slammed down on the table just as loud causing Clara to sigh heavily. She couldn't bring herself do anything except watch as she began to make her a cup of tea, pouring some milk into her.

Mrs. Hudson hesitated, setting the jug down with a sigh, "oh, no... you don't take Milk, do you?"

Clara simply shook her head, "no, I don't." 

"You forget a little thing like that," She muttered and Clara looked away from her pointed look. "You forget lots of little things, it seems."

"Mm-hmm." Clara hummed, looking down at her phone when she got a text. It was a reminder from John about their dinner reservation tonight, it was something fancy for their three year anniversary. She couldn't believe it really had been three years - two of those without Tyler.

"I see you got rid of your bangs," Mrs. Hudson pointed out, pulling Clara from her own thoughts, once more. 

Her hand came up to push her brown locks out of her face, she had let her hair grow out so that she no longer had a sweep of bangs across her forehead instead being able to tuck them behind her and her waves reached down to the small of her back, she had meant to get a trim, but John had said he liked her long hair. 

"You don't look much like a teenager anymore," she said softly. 

Clara quirked an eyebrow at her, "I'm not teenager, I'm 31." She reminded the older woman. Mrs. Hudson didn't say anything this time, just simply shrugged her shoulder, "Look-" she began awkwardly, but Mrs. Hudson cut her off. 

"Just one phone call, Clara," All the anger she had completely disappeared as she gazed at the young brunette, her eyes softening. "Just one phone call would have done."

"I know." Clara said quietly, turning her attention down to the table in front of her. 

"I am your grandmother."

"Yes. I am sorry." Clara apologized, turning her attention up as her Grams took a seat across from her. 

"Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after- after-" She broke off, not being able to voice it.

Clara turned her eyes up at the older woman sharply for bringing up the one topic she never wanted to discuss, "I just let it slide, Grams. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow." She sighed, looking away for a moment. She wanted nothing to do with Baker street, too much there to remind her of what she used to have and what she'd lost. It's why she sold her flat. "You know what I mean?" She asked softly, turning her big brown eyes on the older woman across from her. Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly at her granddaughter and reached across the table to take her hand. 

"You want to take a look at the old place? I'm sure Amy won't mind."

And no matter how much she told herself she wanted nothing to do with it, she found herself whispering, "yes please."

Mrs. Hudson led the young woman over to 221A passing John and Sherlock's old flat as she went, it was just Sherlock's now. She stopped, her eyes trained on the four silver numbers on the door. She was half tempted to head inside and check in on Sherlock like she had meant to so many times before, but she had to keep reminding herself that he didn't want her help. 

"You want to pop in, I'm not sure he's home though. Hardly ever is." Mrs. Hudson told her. 

Clara had to force herself to look away, timidly shaking her head, "no, I find it best to leave Sherlock to himself when he gets like this. Best for everyone involved." She knew if she were to try and talk to Sherlock again she would get her heart broken again with words he said during his highs, half out of his right mind. That was something for Mycroft to deal with, like he always did. 

Mrs. Hudson was the one to knock on the door and after a moment it opened to reveal a young woman with long ginger hair, her big green eyes were wide as a smile stretched across her face, "Mrs. Hudson," her eyes then traveled over to the younger of the two. "Clara, hey, what're you doing here?"

"Do you mind if we take a look at the old place?" Mrs. Hudson asked and Amy smiled. 

"No, not all. Come in, the kettle's just boiled." She stepped aside to let the two in before moving into the kitchen. 

Clara let her eyes travel along the flat, most of the furniture was her own. The only thing she took when she and John first brought a house together was the things in her bedroom, not being able to take any of the furniture. The point of getting a new house was to start new, and she couldn't do that if her whole house was full of memories of her and Tyler's time together. Of course now it was decorated with Amy's own little touch, like a couple of colors here and there and picture frames all over the place. 

"It's been a while." Amy brought the tea tray over to the table by the large window on the other side of the room, setting it on the small table between the two chairs. "I have a couple things I've been meaning to give to you, but never really found the time." She threw open the curtains, letting some of the light filter in. 

"That's fine," She smiled at her, hesitantly taking a seat in her old chair. 

Amy smiled at her, "I'll just go get them." And with that she turned and hurried back into the other rooms. 

"So, why now? What changed your mind?" Mrs. Hudson asked, pulling Clara's attention back to her. 

Clara took in a deep breath, turning to face her grandmother fully, "I've got some news."

Mrs. Hudson turned to her with a look of horror on her face, crossing to the dark haired beauty quickly, "Oh, God. Is it serious?"

"What?" Clara looked at her half amused, half confused. "I'm not Ill Grams, it's about me and John."

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson began sadly wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You know I never thought you two were right, have you tried Sherlock, he looks like-"

"Grams!" Clara shrilled, pulling out of her grip and turning to the older woman with wide eyes. "We didn't break up. Today's our third year anniversary."

Mrs. Hudson giggled with delight, clapping her hands, "Oh, lovely!"

Clara smiled at that, looking down at her feet to hide her blush, "Yeah. We're going out tonight, really fancy, I think he might propose." 

"Here we are," Amy came back into the room with a box and both Hudson's turned to look over at her. She handed it to Clara who immediately started sifting through it, a lot of it was little knick-knacks and picture frames. "Those are just some things I found around the house. Except, um, Tyler's room. I haven't touched anything in there."

Clara smiled slightly at that, she was always so understanding about the whole Tyler situation, and Clara guessed it was because the only reason Amy was looking for a flat was because her husband had passed away about a year ago. She wanted a fresh start. So, she could understand what Clara was going through. "Thank you."

She stopped at one of the photos that caught her attention. Tyler had the camera facing them, her smiling face taking up half the picture as she turned to get Clara and the boys in the background. She could tell just by looking at the small things in the background that they were at Sherlock and John's flat at the time, and from the angle of the picture she would've guessed Tyler was sitting sideways in John's chair. She managed to get John and Clara in the photo who were sitting on the couch. Clara had caught her snapping the photo and was quick to cover her face with her free hand as her other was holding Johns. The latter was watching Sherlock with a curious look, a small amused smile threatening to break free. Sherlock was in his dressing gown, in the midst of pacing and Clara could tell just by the look on his face that he had been complaining about how bored her was. It was one picture but it brought back a thousand memories.   

***

"I think I'll surprise Clara, and John too," Tyler commented, a grin spreading across her face as she thought of all the ways to surprise them. Clara always did love surprises. "They'll be delighted!"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Tyler, smiling slightly mockingly, "You think so?"

"Clara loves surprises," Tyler nodded, turning with a bright smile on her face as she held the bottle to her chest. "For her 27th birthday I jumped out of her cake, she loved it."

"What about Sherlock?" Tyler's smile faltered at the mention of the younger Holmes. 

By the way Mycroft sounded earlier, he wasn't good and that was her fault. She didn't know if she could face him after what she'd done. Not on her own at least. She'd need John and Clara first. 

"I'll have to swing by Baker Street, of course," She muttered, quickly changing the subject. 

"Baker Street?" Mycroft frowned at her, "Clara and John aren't there anymore," Tyler looked at him, surprised, "Why would they be?" he continued, "It's been two years. They've got on with their life, got a house together. There's a new resident at 221A Baker Street."

"Who?" Tyler whirled around on him, her eyebrows shooting up. Mycroft simply held out a file to her. Amelia Pond. 32 and living alone. Her husband, Rory, recently passed. She skipped over a lot of the information until she came across her current place of employment. Her lips twitched into a small smile. She couldn't believe her luck. "Oh, she'll do quite nicely." Tyler folded the file back over to return to Mycroft. "Where're they going to be tonight."

"How would I know?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

Tyler smiled faintly, "You always know."

He didn't even bother to deny it, tilting his head, "they have dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road," he told her, and Tyler blinked in surprise. That was a nice restaurant; John wouldn't usually go there, not unless it was a date. A very special date, "Nice little spot," he went on, "They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion... though I prefer the 2001."

Tyler looked thoughtful, "I think maybe I'll just drop by," she said casually.

"You know it is just possible that you're not welcomed," Mycroft's eyebrows shot up and Tyler snapped her attention to him, glaring sharply at the thought. 

"Nonsense," she denied immediately, shaking her head. "They'll be thrilled to see me, what could possibly be better than me coming back to life?" Tyler turned to look herself over in the mirror, frowning when she realized something was missing. "Now, where is it?"

"Where's what?" Mycroft questioned, doing a bad job of acting as if he didn't have a clue.

"You know what."

The noise of high heels clicking against the concrete floor outside the office sounded before Bree stepped into the doorway, right on cue, holding the black Trench Coat that Tyler hadn't seen in two years. Not since Jim died. Tyler stepped forward, brushing her finger along the soft fabric. No matter how much damage he had caused there was still the time with him that lingered in the back of her head, keeping her from trashing the coat. She turned back around and slipped her arms into the coats sleeves, letting Bree lift it up over her shoulders.

"Welcome back, sister," she smiled as she straightened. 

"It's good to be back," Tyler said, adjusting her coat collar, before turning to face Mycroft. "See you around Myc." She winked at him, smiling broadly as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.