(John’s POV, 8 O’ Clock: )

I was putting away breakable and valuable items, and making sure plenty of pillows were scattered everywhere. I moved the table back into the corner, and I closed off the kitchen and locked the bedroom doors. It was quite difficult with my persistent limp, but Mrs. Hudson couldn’t help. Lastly, I grabbed Sherlock’s skull, which Alice and I had dubbed Harold, and locked him safely in the top drawer of Sherlock’s old dresser. When I was done it was 8:40. I sighed and sat down in the Grey Chair, staring into the distance again.

Twenty-three minutes later, I heard footsteps on the stairs. They were quiet and soft, and the stairs didn’t creak much: Alice with her converse. She opened the door, two six-packs of beer in her hands, plus a bottle of whiskey under each arm. I could see an outline of her cigarettes on her pocket.

“Hey John.” She looked around the flat. “You did better than last year. You could’ve waited for me to help.” She added, looking at my leg.

“It didn’t hurt.” I replied. She looked at me dryly. “Is Greg coming?” I asked.

“Yeah… His wife’s off again.” The red-head replied. She put the alcohol in the mini-fridge and sat down on the middle cushion on the couch, pulling out her pack of cigarettes. “I wish I never started. I can’t run without breaking into a nasty coughing fit.” She said bitterly as she took her first draw.  I looked at her sadly as she coughed a little. “I wish I listened to you.” She added when her lungs settled.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard Greg coming up. Alice smiled a bit as she blew a smoke ring. Greg came through holding a bottle of brandy in one hand and a bottle of tequila and vodka in the other.

“'Ello.” He greeted, sounding cheerful but not smiling. Alice waved briefly before breaking into another fit of coughing. I looked at her sadly as Greg came in and put his alcohol in the mini-fridge as well, then took off his coat and shoes. “Sorry I’m late… Anderson holding me up.” He said politely, sitting down in my chair and sighing.

“No problem. Anderson’s a b*tch.” Alice replied, sounding annoyed and blowing out another lungful of smoke.

“Still on the cigarettes?” Greg asked, sounding sorry for her.

“Unfortunately.” She took another drag.

“Do you guys want to start now?” I asked. They nodded. “Uh, could I have your pistols?” I asked. They nodded again and got up, handing me their handguns. I took out the clips and emptied the chambers, putting them on the kitchen counter then closing the door again. “Who wants to say it?” I asked.

“Who said it last year?” Alice asked, putting out her smoke.

“I don’t remember.” Greg said, a little amused. Alice smiled.

“Neither do I. How 'bout we just choose randomly.” She suggested. I moved onto the floor and set my cane down. I spun it, and it landed on Alice.

“I’ll get the drinks.” Greg said, walking around me and pouring us all a tall glass of tequila. He passed them around. I propped myself against the arm of Greg’s chair and looked at Alice.

“Okay, let’s do this. The third anniversary of the Reichenbach Fall is today, and tonight, like the last two years, we’ll drink till we forget about the supposed ‘suicide’ of our friend, colleague, partner and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. No regrets, because Sherlock obviously didn’t have any.” She said, raising her glass a little bit. “To Sherlock.” Alice began.

“To Sherlock.” All of us finished, tipping our glasses back and downing it all in one go. I put the glass down, breathing a bit heavily and waiting for the burning to go away.

“We’re gonna have a bl**dy high tolerance after this…” Greg said, wincing as the alcohol went down. Alice didn’t even wait for hers to settle before she grabbed a bottle of beer. She cracked it open and then tossed us each one.

“You’re gonna be worse off than last year, girly.” I said, smiling a little bit.

“That’s my goal.” She took a gulp and smiled.