So It did leave of on a dramatic note... I know I might have upset you guys, but look at Moffat for example, how many times has he ripped out our hearts? Too many. Exactly.

A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson got home from her errands. She spotted a note on her desk and was obviously curious. She saw it was in your handwriting. To My Only Friends...She thought, Hmm.. Well it was on my desk. She opened the note slowly. As she began to read her jaw dropped and she pulled up her hand to cover her mouth. As she read the last part she ran up the stairs. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She pounded as hard as she could. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately, tears streaming down her face, maybe there was hope?

She rammed her whole weight into the frame, and even though she looked rather frail, she was stronger than her appearance led people to believe. "[Y/N]!" she shouted desperately again, rushing about the flat. She stopped running, panting heavily, in the center of the living room. She thought she heard music coming from the only room she hadn't checked. She crept towards Sherlock's old room and placed a shaking hand on the knob. It was unlocked.

"[Y/N]?!" she whispered through the door. She could hear the violin and 'you' singing. She felt relief. She flung the door open to see your ghostly pale, blank face with your body laid back, your dead eyes staring at the bookshelf, and an empty pill bottle in your hand as the music played with your voice, "Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season..." She let out as screech as a wave of grief washed over her. She had lost two close friends today. She was like a mother to Sherlock and you.

She ran back down the stairs as sobs and shudders with a river of tears overwhelmed the poor landlady. She grabbed the phone to dial the Watson who had no clue of what had just happened. It rang on and on until, You have reached John Watson, please leave a message at the tone. Beep. She slammed the phone down and sat down. She grabbed the envelope, which she had not ripped, and sealed it gently again with her hands shaking wildly. She addressed it to Lestrade, you two had gotten close.

He read it and had more of a reaction to your death than Sherlock's. He actually turned out to know you better. You were a little sister to all of them. Well, all but one. But he was gone, and so were you.

Two Years Later

John stood outside the glittering black door emblazoned with gold. 221B  it read. He hadn't been here since... You know. He reluctantly gripped the handle and crossed the threshold. He shut the door as memories came back to him in a rush. He heard Sherlock's sweet violin music as he recounted their first true meeting after chasing down a cab with a killer cabbie.

Mrs. Hudson came in, cutting off John's thoughts. She stopped abruptly at the sight of him. He lifted up his hand to say hello, then began up the stairs into the flat he previously inhabited. When he was upstairs he walked into the living room, which was thick with dust from lack of use. Just lack of living things for that matter...... Unless one of Sherlock's experiments got seriously out of hand.

He sat down as Mrs. Hudson started to make coffee. She slammed down the coffee and mug with the cookie tray falling shortly after. She smacked down the sugar, then, quickly realizing her mistake, said, "Oh no, you don't take it do you?"

"Um, no." said John a little confused.

"You forget a little thing like that." said Mrs. Hudson, spacing out slightly, "You forget lots of little things it seems.." she said as though trying to prove a point.

"Uh-huh.." a rather uncomfortable silence fell. Mrs. Hudson soon broke it, however. She reached up and moved her finger in a line above her upper lip. "Not sure about that though. Ages you." Sorry to interrupt, but none of us really liked it, did we? "Just trying it out." John replied awkwardly.

"Well it ages you." said Mrs. Hudson rather fiercer than she intended. "Look..." John began in an explanatory tone.

Mrs. Hudson suddenly said, "I'm not your mother, I have no right to expect it, but just one phone call John! After all we went through!" all her sadness showed clearly on her face and her disappointment showed as well. She sat down with a soft thump and buried her head in her hands. "Yes." John replied in a soothing tone, "I am sorry."

Mrs. Hudson took a deep breath and took her head out of her hands. "Look, I understand it was difficult for you after... After.." she shook her head, seemingly unable to say the words, After Sherlock died. John nodded and clasped the old lady's hand, "I just let it slide, Mrs. Hudson, I just let it all slide... And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow." he sighed heavily, "Do y'know what I mean?"

Mrs. Hudson suddenly took a sharp intake of breath and let it out slowly. " Yes John... I do.."

"Where's [Y/N]?" John asked hopefully.

"Well," Mrs. Hudson began, her voice close to cracking, "That's how I know it gets harder to pick up a phone!" She suddenly dissolved into tears, her head disappearing into her hands once more.

"Is she alright?!" John half-yelled, highly alarmed, "Is she okay?!" Mrs. Hudson slowly raised her head and the tears slowly died away. She shook her head, "J-John, I d-didn't know how to t-tell you... I t-tried to c-call you but it d-didn't work!" she wailed miserably. "What happened?" John asked persistently.

"Sh-She's dead John! She killed herself the same day as Sherlock and I just didn't know what to do!" John froze. He was utterly unable to process what she had just said. "No..." he whispered. Mrs. Hudson was completely silent. "Did she leave anything?" John whispered, barely audible above the noise of London outside and Mrs. Hudson's tears.

"W-What?" Mrs. Hudson stuttered. "Did she leave anything?!" John said harshly. Mrs. Hudson nodded and reached into her jacket pocket. She pulled out an envelope with your writing, faded, but still readable.

John took it and read it over and over, unable to comprehend what you had done. His left hand dropped to the table and his right hand was shaking wildly, making the letter hard to read over again. John closed his eyes and slowly lowered the letter to the table. He was silent for a few moments, frozen is sadness, shock, and disappointment. He stood up after a while longer.

"Well.." he began, "Might as well try to lighten the mood.." Mrs. Hudson raised her head. "I've got news." John said with a smile flickering across his face.

Mrs. Hudson was pulled back to the living, there was no point in being sad now. John continued, "Well, I've met someone, and we're getting married. Well, I'm going to ask anyway." He beamed brightly.

"So soon after Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, though she, too, was smiling. "Well-" John began, but Mrs. Hudson cut him off, "What's his name?"

"It's a woman, actually." John said, slightly annoyed.

"A woman?!" Mrs. Hudson shouted with a wide grin, "You really have moved on, haven't you?!"

"Mrs. Hudson- how many times?- Listen to me," John said, very exasperated, "I. Am. Not. Gay!"

Later That Night

Sherlock had very dramatically revealed himself to John and Mary, interrupting the proposal, as you know. So now there was Sherlock, about to go back to his home in London, where he belonged. Mrs. Hudson heard the door open, stepped back from washing the dishes, but took a frying pan with her.

Then she saw the sihouette at the door. That silhouette could only belong to one person. As the door was drawn back, her hopes were realized as the pale face of Sherlock Holmes came in. She screamed. Of course she screamed. What else was she going to do?

It took all of Sherlock's patience (which wasn't much) to calm her down. When that finally happened a moment of silence fell. Sherlock, of course, being Sherlock, broke it first. He broke it with a question that broke more than the silence. The answer broke his heart, and if you listen closely to this, maybe you can hear it shatter.

"Well," he began, shouting down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson, not knowing the question's answer would kill him, "Where's [Y/N] at? I need to tell her something important." Mrs. Hudson dropped the tea tray. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted, "Are you okay?!" She made her way up the stairs with shaky steps.

Sherlock was waiting for her at the top. "Are you okay? Is [Y/N] okay?" Mrs. Hudson nodded, then shook her head. "Sit down dear, we need to talk." Mrs. Hudson explained everything, from the note, to finding your body in his room, to telling John. She handed him the note. Lestrade gave it back to her after he read it.

Sherlock stood up once she was done and merely said, "Excuse me." He stayed in that room for two weeks without coming out. When people asked him things, all he said was "I'm fine!" He had never said anything to you about his feelings, and now he never could.

John's Wedding Night

Sherlock had left early. Weddings weren't really his style. He missed you too much to think about weddings. He opened the door leading to his flat, happy to get changed into his... Other suit... He started up the stairs when he heard something. A violin. He probably just left the recording on. Who knows, he had been very distracted today.

As he approached the last few steps a beautiful voice drifted through the door. It was all too familiar, and it was singing. "I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home, let the rain, wash away, all the pain of yesterday, and though my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes, I'm coming home..." it was on loop and they could've been singing for hours.

He opened the door, unwilling to believe it was true. When he opened the door and in a few moments a matter of things happened. One, the violin player stopped, two, Sherlock collapsed and dissolved into tears, head in his hands, three, the voilin player stood up and turned around, four, the violin player was you.

"I am... So sorry." you began, not knowing where to start or how to explain yourself. You faltered, and stopped. You walked towards Sherlock's form on the ground and kneeled with him, so you were still shorter. You gently pried Sherlock's hands off his tear-stained face so his steel grey eyes were locked with your [E/C] ones.

You leaned forward slightly, so your faces were inches apart, and whispered, "Do you want to know how I made you fall for me Mister Holmes?" He leaned in so your noses were now touching, and whispered back, "How?" You grinned, but not showing any teeth, then whispered in reply, "I fell for you myself."

Sherlock's eyes flicked down to your [L/C] lips. He couldn't take it anymore. He closed the gab between you two. He needed to say so many things for so long, and now that he had you back, he intended to say them.

When you finally pulled back for air you whispered one more thing to Sherlock, "Moriarty owed you a fall. Looked like you got one more than you bargained for." You both stood up in unison. "I don't know about you," you said to Sherlock with a weary smile, matching his, "But faking your own death is exhausting." He took your hand in his. "I know exactly what you mean."

You both walked to Sherlock's room and cuddled. It had been one heck of a night. You fell asleep first, you were fried. The rhythmic pattern of your breathing eventually lulled Sherlock to sleep as well. The last thought he had before giving in to his dreams was, John definitely was right. The trio is back at Baker Street at last. Hopefully it will be like this for a while.

As he slept, he dreamed of the mischief and the crimes and the deductions, but for now, he'd be just fine with the tea Mrs. Hudson makes for him in the morning and the sweetness you brought back to his life.

Love. He thought, What a funny thing.

So I'M FINALLY DONE! This is one of my cutest Fanfics yet! (And it has trigger warnings!) Hopes you guys enjoyed it, and don't forget to tell me what you thought!