(Y/n) looked around her; she was in some kind of ballroom surrounded by men in tailed tuxedos and smart dress uniforms; by ladies in their finest clothes and jewels. She could tell that the people were talking as she moved through the crowd; she was sure that there should be music, given the musicians and all those that danced on the open space of floor. Yet no matter how hard she listened, she couldn't hear a thing; not the supposedly always important conversation of the men, as some sipped on the glasses of sherry in their hands, or the chatter of the ladies as they complimented one another on their gowns. Nor could she hear as the violinists drew their bows over the strings of the instruments tucked under their chins. (Y/n) slowly turning around as she did her best to work out where she was, and how she had got there. Her bare feet chilled by the cold marble floor beneath them; the tattered black dress that covered her form seeming to weigh her down as she moved. Yet when she turned her attention from the ceiling above her, she found that the people around her had stopped speaking, stopped dancing; all eyes now on her. Every one of them slowly raising their hands and pointing an accusing finger at her; their faces contorted in anger as they all seemed to mouth the same silent words. (Y/n) feeling tears come to her eyes as she felt the need to escape from their condemnatory glares; for even though she could not hear what they were saying, she was sure that they were blaming her for something. Her feet moving with all haste across the highly polished floor; hands reaching outwards, as she found herself in front two large doors. Her body suddenly chilled to the bone as she burst out on a balcony, the air filled with a soft fall of snow, as she wrapped arms around herself; everything coming back to her, when she turned and saw them.......as she saw Sherlock and Moriarty. The professor clinging to the man that she loved and smiling at her over Sherlock's shoulder. (Y/n)'s eyes growing wide as she saw the glint of a blade, her heart stopping as the metal was thrust into Sherlock's body; her body refusing to move, as she could only stand there and watch as the evil man that had dogged them for so long, tipped the younger Holmes over the balcony, headfirst into the dark falls. The silence of the scene split, when she screamed out a single word.......

"Sherlock..............!"

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

"(Y/n)........(Y/n)............." (Y/n) sitting bolt upright as someone shook her. Her heart thumping violently inside her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks; it feeling as though she was unable to breath, as she clung for dear life to whoever had woken her. Her head buried into their chest, as arms were wrapped around her.

"It was my fault......all my fault......that was what they were saying, accusing me of. It is my fault that he is dead. It should have been me, not him.......I should have died. I killed Sherlock............" She sobbed, as she continued to cling to the person that woke her.

"You didn't kill anyone, (Y/n). And none of what happened was your fault......." John told her. Looking over at Mary, as (Y/n) continued to cry.

"It was all Moriarty.....he did all that. He was the one that caused all this.......And........" Mary giving her husband an agreeing nod, knowing what John was about to say. Sure, that it was best that perhaps he just come out and say it.

"Sherlock isn't dead.............." The declaration causing (Y/n) to pull away from him.

"No, no, what I saw last night.............we saw them.....both of them go over the falls..........."

"Yes.....yes we did, you're right; but I saw Sherlock last night, (Y/n), when I went to Baker Street. He is alive and well, and very, very real. What you hit last night, was him; no hallucination, no phantom or spirit, it was Sherlock. He didn't mean to scare you; but you know Sherlock as well as I do, loved to make a drama out of everything..........." John explained, doing his best to lighten the tone, as (Y/n) looked down at her hand, the knuckles still sore from the punch.

"But........but how...........?" She queried. The doctor pushing away the tears from her cheeks, as he took her face in his hands.

"Why don't we let Mary help you get cleaned up and dressed in something a little more suitable for the day, before we go into that........." Mary nodding and smiling, as (Y/n) turned to look at her.

"Alright..........."

"That's a good girl..........." John reaching his arms underneath her, before carrying (Y/n) out of the sitting room and up the stairs.

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

(Y/n) sat at the kitchen table with Mary by her side. The former governess holding her hands, as John told her everything that Sherlock her said.

"Is.......is he still at Baker Street........?" (Y/n) asked, as she finally looked up from the table.

"Well, he should be, unless Misses Hudson has kicked him out for nearly giving her a heart attack. He wants to see you, (Y/n). He came back because of you. But if you don't want to see him, I won't force you. The choice is yours......." The doctor told her. (Y/n) doing her best to take all this in; to realise that the man she believed she would never see again, the man she loved, was in fact alive and back in his old apartments. Not sure whether to be overjoyed or angry at the revelations; but she was sure of one thing, and that was she needed to see him for herself. She needed to see Sherlock in the daylight. She had to hear him speak, to touch his face.........

"Can we go there now..............?" John nodding at the question, before getting to his feet and leaving the room, heading for the front door of the house, so that he could hail a cab.