(Y/n) looked around the main sitting room; it was the first time she had been back to Baker Street since his death; since the funeral, that had had no body to morn over. This the first time that she had been able to face the place; to face the thought of what she had lost......Sherlock Holmes.......the man she loved.

She had been there that night at the Reichenbach peace summit with Sherlock, John, Simza, Mycroft and the older Holmes' man, Carruthers. She had been there when Sherlock had taken himself and Moriarty over the balcony, to their deaths. His last act, a small smile as he looked at her, before the two men had disappeared into the dark mist that came up from the falls that crashed onto the rocks, far below; and at that moment, as she stood at the balcony, screaming out his name, her heart had broken; John the only thing that had stopped her from joining Sherlock. The doctor wrapping his arms around her, doing his best to console her; holding her tight, while he himself fought the urge to cry. Each as numb as the other. Neither wanting to believe what they had just witnessed.

On the journey back to England from Switzerland, John had never left her side; (Y/n) more grateful for that, than she could ever tell him. He the only thing that had kept her together; the only one that she could look to in those dark moments. (Y/n) well aware of how much Sherlock had actually meant to the doctor; that despite all the things the younger Holmes did and said to annoy him, John had seen him not only as a friend, but as a brother too. The pair sharing one another's grief; one another's loss. But once they were back in London, it was only right that the doctor should be more concerned with his wife than her. And no matter how much John and Mary had assured her that she could come and stay with them, instead of going back to Baker Street, she had declined the offer; not wanting to take any more time from the couple than Moriarty already had, by making the pair, pawns in his and Sherlock's game. So, she had been staying in hotels around London, until she could summon up the courage to return to the flat that she had begun to share with Sherlock. Though whatever courage she had had, was beginning to faulter, as she saw his violin propped up against his chair, and his ragged old dressing gown, draped across the arms. Both items just waiting for the man that would never return.

"Miss (Y/n)............" (Y/n) turning to see a worried looking Misses Hudson with a tea tray in her hands. The younger woman pushing away the tears from her cheeks and doing her best to smile, as the housekeeper took another step into the room.

"I thought you might be able to use this........." The old lady added, as she looked at the tray; smiling softy, as (Y/n) nodded, before making her way over to the chairs, taking up the dressing gown and placing over the back of the seat, before sitting down.

"Are........are you sure that you want to stay here, my dear.........?" Misses Hudson asked, as she handed (Y/n) a teacup.

"I am sure, Misses Hudson. I don't want you to have to look for new tenants, and I don't want anything happening to all of Sherlock's possessions. I know that he's not..............that he's not coming back; but I would hate to see his life's work, just thrown away as if it were nothing. He deserves better than that......his memory deserves better than that. And well, in truth, there is nowhere else I want to be, nowhere else I belong............" (Y/n) replied, before taking a sip of her tea. The two women just sitting in the room, surrounded by what had been the chaos of Sherlock Holmes' life. Sitting there in silence, until (Y/n) could hold it in no longer.....

"I miss him, Misses Hudson.........I miss him so much.........." Misses Hudson getting to her feet and moving to sit on the arm of the chair where (Y/n) sat; placing her arm around her shoulders, so that she could do her best to console the younger woman.

"I know, my dear.......and I miss him too; despite everything." Misses Hudson replied, as she rubbed at (Y/n)'s arm.

"I still expect him to come barging through that door at any minute with Clarkie and an annoyed Lestrade, hot on his heals. John sat in that other chair, rolling his eyes, as he looks over his copy of the morning Times, at them. The world won't be the same without him, Misses Hudson.......My life won't be the same without him............" (Y/n) continued, before Misses Hudson pulled her close and allowed her to cry.

                                                       >>----------------------------------<<

(Y/n) groaned, as she woke from her slumber. Her sore eyes opening to see that it was still dark; her hands going to find the little table by the bed, and the oil lamp that sat upon it. (Y/n) grateful to find the small box of matches, striking one of them and using it to light the lamp. A soft, warm glow now filling her bedroom.

She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion; Misses Hudson helping her to the bedroom and then into the bed. The older woman brushing (Y/n)'s hair from her face, before placing a small kiss to her forehead, then telling her to sleep and that she would come and check on her later; though whether she had, (Y/n) wasn't sure; but it didn't matter, she was thankful enough for what she had already done. (Y/n) laying back in the bed and looking up at the ceiling; doing her best to fight off her waking thoughts of Sherlock. Of all the things that she had lost, and all the things that could have been, if Sherlock hadn't been drawn into Moriarty's deadly game.........

"Misses Hudson........?" (Y/n) called out, as she suddenly heard a noise from beyond the door.

"Misses Hudson.........?" She called out again. Her brows furrowing as no reply came. (Y/n) pulling back the sheets and letting her bare feet move to the floor, before she grabbed the oil lamp and made her way to the door. Her heart beginning to beat wildly, as she reached for the handle; (Y/n) reaching for the long, thin, metal vase that stood on her dresser, pushing it under her arm, before finally opening the door and making her way out into the sitting room. It as dark as she would expect; the light from the lamp making the shadows of the room, only look darker.

"Misses Hudson.........?" She called out again, before making her way to the main door; opening it to find that the rest of the house was as dark as her rooms. (Y/n)'s heart skipping a beat as she heard a small noise from behind her; doing her best to steady her shaking hand and pounding heart, before she slowly turned, grabbing at the metal vase as she did. Her eyes growing wide, as there was a sudden flash of light, that lingered long enough for her to see the features of the person that was sat in one of the armchairs. The smell of his pipe tobacco, filling the air.

"Hello, darling............"

"Sherlock.................?"