#getting emotional over the crossover fanfiction video game

[ronispadez]

God super smash bros is just so unique and special and important. I wish I could relive the Sora announcement... So many memories man. Shits wild

[fallintosanity]

🤗🎉📚

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Two things! The first isn’t fanfic-specific and is common enough to be a cliche, but: write what makes you happy. My earliest fics were terribly awkward multi-verse crossovers which quickly evolved into (what I tried to convince myself weren’t) Mary Sue fics with a sort-of self-insert character who was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. (Full disclosure: there are echoes of that self-insert character in several of the original characters I’ve created for my more recent fics, although I like to hope my writing has matured enough to keep those OCs more realistic and interesting. XD ) 

But!!! Writing those fics was fun. Most of the other students in my screenwriting degree classes were older than me by ten years, give or take, and their writing tended toward literary fiction aimed at twenty- and thirty-somethings. Their stories bored teenage me out of my skull, and if I (or my teachers) had ever tried to force myself to write the same kinds of stories, I would have given up writing before I turned twenty. (ETA: no hate to those stories, they just weren’t and still aren’t my thing.)  Instead, I wrote all those Mary Sue self-inserts and crazy crossover fanfics, and I learned how to carry a plot and how to use subplots and how to create tension and when to release it and all the other things a writer (fanfic or otherwise) needs to know. 

The second is mostly fanfiction-specific, and that is learn how to mimic. As best I can tell, one of the main reasons why a lot of people like my Murderbot Diaries fics and my Dresden Files crossover in particular, is that I’m faithful to the narrative voice. Fics that really nail each character’s speaking style, as well as the overall narrative style for written works, help keep your readers inside the canon you’re writing for. 

This is kind of the umbrella advice to things like “make sure to britpick your British characters” and “don’t have Aragorn son of Arathorn say ‘Bye Felicia!’ when killing an orc”. But it’s more than just making sure you’re using the right individual words and phrases - it’s about understanding the flow of the narrative voice, the individual characters’ speaking styles, and so on, and being able to accurately reflect them in your fic. (This skill is also useful outside fanfiction if you ever want to write for an established universe, like writing a Star Wars tie-in novel or whatever.) 

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Any time it evokes real emotion from a reader! Ideally the emotion I mean for it to evoke, but honestly as long as my fic is making people feel something honest about the story or the characters, I consider it a success. 

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

I have thought about it a lot actually! I mentioned up top that I took screenwriting classes - I actually got a degree in screenwriting fresh out of high school. (It’s not a “full” degree like a bachelor’s, though. I don’t remember what it’s called anymore.) And recently, when health issues forced me to take time off from my infosec career, I considered going into video game writing. But aside from the fact that breaking into a career as either a screenwriter or a game writer is insanely difficult, I’ve also learned I do not write well (or at all) when under major stress. (Hence why I did so little writing over the past year :( ) Since screenwriting and game writing are both stressful jobs, I’ve accepted that neither is a good fit for me. I might still get around to trying to write and publish a novel someday, though. 

Ask me stuff?

[nowplayingblog]

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT:

Sweater Weather, by @lumosinlove

... and other related works.

SPOILER FREE

Short(er) Remus Rights. One of the big things I dislike about a lot of people within any fandom is how much they can sometimes gatekeep different interpretations of characters. Remus and Sirius get a lot of this - there are interpretations of their characters that the majority of the fandom has decided to agree on, and anything outside of that is somehow wrong. For me, Remus is the hardest, because my interpretation is at times the exact opposite of what the fandom seems to have agreed on. I won't go into too much detail here, but one of my points is that I imagine Remus as shorter and smaller than Sirius. A lot of people will come for your next if you don't think that Remus is like seven feet tall or something ridiculous. Overall, Hazel's Remus has always lined up a lot with my interpretation of him. It's just nice to see Remus written and described in a way that I also imagine him in my head. (I may make another post explaining myself more in depth on this one...)

Use of French, and Hockey Accuracy. When reading Sweater Weather, I would be constantly translating the French that is used by multiple characters in the story, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the use of the language seemed to be a lot more accurate and genuine than a simple google translate plug (which... No hate, I've been there.) It made me wonder if Hazel actually knows French? At least a little? Also the descriptions of Hockey both on and off the ice feel really real and accurate, especially after I finished the story and started to look more into Hockey (because I'm probably on my way to becoming a Hockey fan now) and was ecstatic to find a lot of the things being discussed in the story also being discussed in real hockey clips and videos. This is most likely due to Hazel being a Hockey fan and actually understanding the sport instead of just fudging it. (Which again, I would be guilty of.)

Healthy Polyamorous Relationship(s). I have very rarely read anything with a polyamorous relationship. Period. But when I do I have that awful monogomous-normative voice in the back of my head that tells me which two are "actually in love" and which one is "the third wheel" and I definitely don't have that awful voice regarding the real life polyamorous relationships I've seen. Hazel does a wonderful job at developing every interpersonal relationship with O'Knutzy as well as how they all work together. (And O'Darwin is new to me, but I already love it so, so much)

Varying Relationship Lengths. There are relationships of varying shapes and sizes. Some take years to say "I love you" while others are engaged less than two years after getting together. I think it's easy to forget nowadays that you don't need to be dating for years before getting married and starting a family - and it doesn't need to be in that order.

That Hurt/Comfort tho. Hurt/Comfort is may favorite genre perhaps ever. And in Hockey there is a lot of hurt, so it makes sense to be followed up by a lot of comfort. It's perfect. *chef's kiss*

Feeling Things With The Characters. In almost every scene I could feel how each character felt and kind of get a sense of what's going on in their heads. There were times in these works where I could really feel that longing or loneliness or pain or sadness. I don't get to feel that intensely that often when reading fanfiction, and these fics make me feel all the things.

These are just a few of the broader themes I enjoyed while reading Sweater Weather.

SPOILERS AHEAD

TOP FIVE FAVORITE SCENES:

The All Stars Game (AKA all of Chapter 15) I loved this chapter, because it captures the entire arc of the pain Remus and Sirius feel after being outed, the steps they take to actually talk about it and talk to eachother again and get through it together, to once again being on the same page, and rooting for and protecting eachother more fiercely than ever. I loved the team members coming over to be with Remus and watch the game, I loved Remus's past coming to light, I loved Sirius punching Greyback in the face, Regulus being rescued. I even loved hearing the terrible things the press had to say, because I love that kind of drama it gets me so worked up (... In works of fiction. In real life that stuff would make me very, very angry.)

Remus Talking to Logan (Chapter 13) I love this scene because it really shows basically every side of the O'Knutzy drama, and because I could really feel Logan's pain and panic in this scene. I loved how soft and kind Remus was in trying to talk to Logan about it, at the same time trying to keep him calm. I loved Finn walking in and seeing that Logan was hurting and immediately wanting to fix it, nearly ready to fight Remus, who was getting in his way. And I love the final part, where Remus suggests Logan tell 'them' he loves them, all the while promising himself he would tell Sirius the same thing. I think this scene is the perfect crossover point between Coast to Coast and Sweater Weather, and progresses both storylines flawlessly.

Family Skate (Chapter 12) I think it's hat I liked most about this scene was the Team learning not only that Remus used to play, but just how good he was, and still is. I loved how shocked they are, and the foreshadowing when Arthur asks Remus if he has any tapes. I really like the somber tone around Remus's injury, and how tragic it is, and the team can really understand that. It also sets the time for just how much this injury is affecting Remus even to this day. Aside from all that serious stuff, seeing the Team with little kids is also super cute. And James finding out about the necklace.

The Game Against Vegas (Chapter 16) I liked this scene a lot because you can really feel how much the team wants to avenge Remus. I liked the tense interactions between Remus and Greyback, especially the part where Remus said "you're not my teammate". One of my favorite moments is at the end of this chapter when Remus is spiraling in a gas station parking lot, and all of his old superstitions are coming back to him. The Angst Levels are astronomical.

Leo and Finn Like Eachother (Coast to Coast, Chapter 4) I honestly loved this scene so much, the emotional roller coaster Leo went through, the hesitance surrounding the whole "all three of us" question. The pain Leo feels when he thinks the kiss was only out of confusion, and that Finn only loved Logan. The relief he feels when Finn says he likes him. It's just a master piece. (Honorable mention for when all three of them get together in the next chapter: it was such a close tie.)

All in all, Sweater Weather is such a good read, and I love that I'm still immersed even after I've read the fic so many times. I'm going to keep following Vaincre, and I have a lot of ficlets planned out for this universe, coming soon.

Lots of love and praise to Hazel, who wrote not only such a good story, but wonderful characters (both Harry Potter, and original) as well.

[twixtandshout]

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen. 

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

[violethowler]

What the Kingdom Hearts Series Means to Me

Holding the physical copy of Kingdom Hearts III that I pre-ordered and paid extra to have delivered on release day is a surreal experience. It feels like a dream in all honesty. Kingdom Hearts III used to be a formless thing. A cryptid that fans hoped to catch a glimpse of but didn’t really believe existed. To put it into perspective, Kingdom Hearts II first released when I was in third grade, and I’m currently approaching my graduation from college. Six games have been released in the last decade and a half to expand on the series’ lore and set up the major pieces for the next “main” installment, but only now are we getting Kingdom Hearts III. This franchise has been with me through middle school, high school, and college. It’s a big freaking deal.

I had never been passionately into video games as a kid. My first game system was the Nintendo GameBoy Advance, and the only games I was interested in playing were movie tie-in games that adapted the plot of a specific movie. The Incredibles. The Polar Express. Ice Age: The Meltdown, Madagascar. The only other game I can remember that wasn’t an adaptation of an existing film was a weird 3D Pacman game, but I don’t remember ever playing it as fervently as I did those old movie games.

Even after receiving a PlayStation 2 for either my birthday or Christmas in 2006, the only games I would play that weren’t movie adaptations were the NickToons crossover games like Battle for Volcano Island or Attack of the Toybots. But I only played them because they featured my favorite TV character. I was never interested in the storyline. That would change one day in late-summer/early autumn 2007, when, after seeing an advertisement for it in my old Disney Adventures magazines, I rented a PlayStation title I’d never heard of called Kingdom Hearts II.  

In the beginning, I didn’t pay attention to the story. I just skipped through the cutscenes and focused exclusively on the gameplay. But as I got to the more difficult portions of the game, I started to watch the cutscenes and pay attention to the story. And the more I did, the more I fell in love with it. Once I had fully digested the story of Kingdom Hearts II, I wanted more. I went back and played the original Kingdom Hearts, then I bought Chain of Memories for my GBA. I was hooked. I started buying and reading the manga adaptations of the games. I bought a couple of collectible figurines. I. Was. Obsessed.

I spent much of my computer time in those days scouring the internet for every scrap of information I could find on the next games in the franchise. Kingdom Hearts III wasn’t in the cards yet, so I focused my attention on the three titles that I vaguely recall being collectively referred to at the time as “the handheld trilogy”: 358/2 Days, Birth by Sleep, and Coded. I searched with a fine-tooth comb on websites dedicated to gaming news in general and Kingdom Hearts specifically, hoping to find out more about these next three games.

In many ways, Kingdom Hearts helped me take my first tentative steps into the wider community of fandom. My search for news on the next games in the series unearthed funny fan-made comic strips about my favorite characters. Even though Kingdom Hearts III was still a fantasy by that point, I found people using Photoshop, or whatever image-editing software was popular around 2008 or so, to create ideas for what the cover art would look like. I found detailed fan art of potential new outfits for all the major characters. I found theories and ideas and the ever-raging bonfire of speculation that grows larger with each new game released. I found fan-made music videos and fanfiction to sate my hunger for more content between games. I wasn’t as involved in fandom to the extent that I am today, but my experience with Kingdom Hearts helped me dip my toes in the water, so to speak, as I started to engage more with my favorite media beyond simply consuming it once and then going back to watch/play it again when I needed something to do.

And what makes this day so much sweeter is how much effort Disney is clearly putting into promoting this game. Almost a decade ago, and the most advertising any Kingdom Hearts title got outside of dedicated gaming magazines or events was maybe a single tv commercial per game. The only way to know a new game was coming otherwise was if you were actively following the development of each title before they even locked in when it would come out. In the last six months of waiting for Kingdom Hearts III, there’s been a concert tour, multiple commercials and advertisements on both TV and social media, and even ads playing before the previews at movie theaters. After years of trying to share my love for this series, only for a handful of people to have ever heard of it, it’s a tremendous thrill to see the games I love finally getting mainstream recognition.

It’s because of this series that I even consider myself a gamer in the first place. Before Kingdom Hearts, I just plowed through every game I had, treating each level as just another puzzle or challenge to complete. But Kingdom Hearts II exposed me to the possibility of video games as a medium for storytelling, and it was through my engagement with the Kingdom Hearts storyline that I found myself seeking out other games with their own compelling stories. Final Fantasy, The World Ends with You, Horizon: Zero Dawn… These are some of the many games with stories and worlds that have enthralled me as someone who loves to both experience stories and create them. And without Kingdom Hearts, I would probably never been enough of a gamer to know or care that they existed.

When I was younger, I was only interested in games if they were available on the systems I had. But Kingdom Hearts wasn’t limited to only one console. In the early years of the franchise, the series was spread across the GameBoy Advance, PlayStation 2, Nintendo DS, PlayStation Portable, Nintendo 3DS, PlayStation 3, PlayStation 4, and smartphones. So, whenever my research uncovered that the next title would be on a console I didn’t own, I would go out of my way to get it, either by putting it on my holiday wish list, or by saving up the money for it myself. And usually, I would buy these platforms years in advance of the Kingdom Hearts game I’d got it for came out, so I would search for interesting games to play on it while I waited. And unlike before, now I was actively looking for things to play.

When it was just my GameBoy, PlayStation, and a handful of movie/TV show tie-ins, I didn’t go out of my way to look for new games. I relied on advertisements in my trusty Disney Adventures magazine to tell me what games that were out that might interest me. Nowadays, I annually watch live coverage of E3, the entertainment expo where game developers show off the status of their current projects or unveil their next main title. And I keep my eyes out for every title that looks entertaining from both a gameplay and story perspective, whether I see ads in a magainze, footage at E3, a trailer on YouTube, or fanart online.  

Before I realized that animation was what I wanted to do as a career, my first dream job was to be a game designer. And if your first guess as to why I wanted to pursue that career path isn’t Kingdom Hearts, then in the words of one of the franchise’s original villains, “You have come this far, and still, you understand nothing.” While I ultimately realized that animation was my true passion as an artist, it was Kingdom Hearts that set me on the idea of turning my art skills into a career. Without Kingdom Hearts, I might not have ended up where I am today. 

Most of the fandom knows that Kingdom Hearts III isn’t the end of the road for the franchise. Even aside from its immense popularity, series director Tetsuya Nomura has spoken about the fact that the series will continue beyond III, but that this represents the conclusion of the current story arc that has been going on since the original Kingdom Hearts game back in 2002. It’s fitting that this arc of the series is ending the same year that I graduate from college. This series has seen me through multiple chapters of my life. Middle school. High School. College. And in May, I’ll be a college graduate looking for a job. Each time I moved from one stage of life to the next, it always felt like the end. But it never is. But life goes on. The story will go on, but this chapter of it is over.

You can imagine, then, why today is such a big deal. This series has been with me for more than half my life. These games, and other media I obsess over to a similar degree, mean so much to be precisely because the story and characters connect with me on such a deep emotional level. My opinion on storytelling in any medium is that the ones that put your emotions in a blender and take you from screaming in anguish to crying tears of joy in the span of a few hours or less are the ones that deserve to be remembered. The best stories should leave you wanting to know more, not just out of curiosity over what happens next, but also for the satisfaction of knowing that the characters you’ve grown to love will be alright.

Kingdom Hearts has consistently checked every single one of those boxes for me for as long as I’ve been playing it. Even the prequels and midquels that ended in tragedy and heartbreak still had a note of assurance that there was still hope. Even if the games that inevitably come out post-KHIII hypothetically don’t have the same emotional impact on me that the pre-III ones did, I will never be able to stop loving the series I grew up with. I’ve been invested in it for so long that it feels like it’s woven into my DNA. This series has grown over the last eleven years just as I have, and whatever the future holds for the franchise, good or bad, I will never regret the time I’ve spent with this incredible saga.

[an-aura-about-you]

Fanfic Writer Asks:

5, 11, 15, and 20. I’d love to hear about any of those ~

Ooo thank you for the ask!

5. Do you listen to music when writing?

Sometimes! In fact, I'm pretty sure my next big fic is just an elaborate, inconvenient delivery system for a weird playlist. (I will probably just make the weird playlist and link to it in addition to the other links I plan to add.) I also half-watched, half-listened to Carmen while I was at work and fiddling with fic ideas, and the wip I last had opened was titled after one of the songs from that opera.

11. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

Usually emotion-driven. If I can get the emotion right, then that fits in with the character, and a lot of my more recent things have been about characters processing emotions. Even though I haven't been writing Princess Tutu fanfiction lately, it's clearly left an impact on me and the kind of narratives I create.

15. What is the fanfic you’ve written that you’re most proud of?

I'm gonna cheat a little bit here and give two answers because I'm pretty sure I answered a similar question at some point and that answer hasn't changed. But that might have been sometime last year because my memory hangs on to things like that.

One thing I'm proud of that I didn't even realize until I properly archived all my fic on here is that I've written roughly 200+ pieces of Princess Tutu fanfic. That's huge. I had no idea I had written so much of it over the years until I actually compiled it for my fanfic masterpost. Some of them are tiny oneshots, but still! It also explains why I've been dabbling in writing fanfics for other fandoms as of late. Not saying I'm quitting or anything, just that that's a lot.

But as far as specific fics go? Crossing the Bridge, the first of my many crossover fics with The Magnus Archives and the Chzo Mythos. For a long time I've been a seat-of-my-pants fic writer, even with longer fics. But this is the first one I properly planned out from beginning to end, wrote in its entirety before posting any of it, and had a beta look at it for polishing up. It's nice to have that kind of accomplishment, to reach a point in writing where I can do that, to have people I trust to read my stuff and give me good feedback, and to reach a point of growth where I can receive that kind of feedback.

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

I'll get this out of the way before I give a more specific answer but kudos and comments are the best and I love them.

When my work spurs others to create and they tell me about it or show me. I've been incredibly fortunate to see so many people read my Princess Tutu fanfics and go, "Yeah, I wanna make fanart of that!" (There was even a YouTube video not too long ago about Princess Tutu that namedropped @mimimonart and my reaction went from "Oh cool!" to "holy shit this youtuber has almost certainly seen fanart of my fanfiction")

But to name a different, more recent example: I got a comment on The Moon Holds You Forever, my first and so far only Rusty Quill Gaming fic, saying I inspired them with the premise of the fic and asking if they can use the same idea. Being of the "hell yeah two cakes!" school of fanfic ideas and tropes, I'm eager to see what others do with the same ideas and gave my go-ahead. To know that my work inspired somebody else to create and being able to see the result is amazing.

[rudemaidenswrite]

You Can Hide Here

part 14

author: @pusantheamazonian

P.S. If any are interested, the fanfiction on our page 'Ice Cold and Mind Games' will eventually crossover with the ‘You Can Hide Here’ series.

part 1: https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717451846/you-can-hide-here

part 2 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717668251/you-can-hide-here

part 3 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717998306/you-can-hide-here

part 4 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161718268416/you-can-hide-here

part 5 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/167972312781/you-can-hide-here

part 6 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168462055071/you-can-hide-here

part 7 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168535611451/you-can-hide-here

part 8 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168538267861/you-can-hide-here

part 9 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168539193221/you-can-hide-here

part 10 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168539788521/you-can-hide-here

part 11 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168568276186/you-can-hide-here

part 12 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168679184446/you-can-hide-here

part 13 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168681944041/you-can-hide-here

tag list: @1800-fight-me

                             “Solana...Solana.” Loki shakes your shoulder trying to wake you.

“What Loki.” You grumble rolling over to look at Loki who is fully dressed for battle and squatting beside your side of the bed.

“I’ll be back.”

“Back? We’re are you going?”

“Director Fury has a mission.”

“At three in the morning?” You stare at the clock and try to process this information in your sleep fogged brain.

“Yes but I will be back. So go back to sleep.” Loki brushes the hair out of your face.

“....Be safe.” You quickly fall back asleep not even sure Loki heard you before he left.

~

The tower is eerie silent as you walk upstairs to the kitchen. Since Rufus was being cooperative when you woke up, you was able to stick her in your sweatshirt pocket. While making toast you kept expecting someone pop out from a corner to scare you but no one does.

“Jarvis, did everyone leave?”

~Yes Miss Solana, they should be back this evening. ~

“Thank you Jarvis.”

You make the living room couch your new home by gathering all the pillows around you. Rufus decides to make herself comfortable and lay down on your chest. Good thing you had grabbed the remote, you flip the TV on to watch Red vs Blue.

“What are you watching?” Director Fury asks as season two starts. He stands beside the couch looking slightly more annoyed than usual.

”Red vs Blue. In the distant future, two groups of soldiers battle for control of the least desirable piece of real estate in the known universe: a box canyon in the middle of nowhere. They become frenemies as they quest to find out what they are really doing. It’s a parody show of the Halo video games.”

“Whatever, this is John Peterson correct?” Fury holds a picture up.

“Yup that’s him.”

“Good.” Fury leaves with no reply.

What bugs you is not the way Fury just randomly shows up and disappears but something that caught your eye in the background of the picture. You wait a few minutes to make sure that Director Fury really did leave before googling something.

~Miss Solana they will be arriving soon. ~

“Thank you Jarvis.” You quickly clean up. You throw the pillows back to where they original were and throw the trash away. While snatching Rufus to put back in your pocket, you see a ship slow down as it enters the tower a few floors below. “Whoa, now that’s how you hide a ship.” You press your face against the glass.

“You’re smudging the glass.” Loki whispers.

Jumping around you see Loki smirking. “You jerk.”

Everyone begins to slowly trail into the living room. Until lastly Tony walks in with Steve arguing something about doing a treatment.

Well you guys look grumpy and what are they arguing about? 

They are as you say grumpy. Steve was electrocuted by a machine we found, there were several machines. He has a burn across his chest.

Did they treat it?

Yes but it will heal slowly.

Why didn’t you heal it?

Solana, not everyone trusts me like you do, as you would say I’m still on probation.

Oh. 

“So what have you been doing all day Solana?” Tony asks messing with a screen he popped up from his phone.

“Nothing.” You wander to the kitchen grabbing some random things from the cupboard. Spotting the pop tarts, you grab one and toss it over your shoulder. “Thor catch.”

“Thank you Solana.” Thor bellows in gratitude.

“So did ya’ll have fun?” You ask while mixing a few ingredients into a mason jar while looking at them being blobs on the couch.

“Loads of fun.” Clint sarcastically replies, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“Problem tip toeing through the tulips?”

“Not exactly but your friend has been busy.” Fury comments walking in and you inadvertently look away.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Steve asks relaxing into the couch, with a slight quince.

“First we need to figure out exactly what this is and how to disarm it.” Fury has Tony pull up a picture that you know all too well.

“And stop the production of these machines but all we know that they give a hell of a shock.” Clint smirks.

"Come on you guys are the fucking Avengers, do you know nothing?" You just blurt the words out.

"What?" Fury asks making sure he did not just hear that correctly. Everyone is staring at you.

“Oh god... I said that out loud.” You groan, covering your face.

“Solana.” Fury says your name like he is the pissed off mother who just cracked.

"Let me introduce you to something called the interweb." Stealing Tony’s phone, you pull open a screen for everyone to look at and begin to google ‘home of fandom’. Clicking on the wikia you then type in M2 shocker and enlarge the picture to show everyone.

“What is this?” Bruce asks while cleaning his glasses. Everyone starts to surround you in the kitchen.

“The M2 shocker; this particular item is what your lovely friends at Hydra have.”

“How would you know exactly what it is called?” Fury demands.

“What? I google random stuff when I’m bored. Besides you guys never google yourself?” You defend you random googling.

“Why would we google ourselves?” Steve doesn’t see the point of it. 

Slash fiction

“Why not? You should see what fans do in their free time; fan art, comics, stuffed animals, posters, books, fanfiction, all sorts of stuff about you guys. Also lists like this, where it has every weapon ever used by avengers, shield and hydra exist to the public.” You ignore Loki’s face about your last thought.

”Stony or Stucky?” Tony interrupts looking up from a different phone. Everyone is bewildered by the random question. While you just freeze, trying to process if you should actually answer the question but Tony is staring intently at you.

“Stony all the way. Now Tony pay attention and stop googling that, do it later.” Tony high fives you with a smile. He obviously just searched himself on google and found the Stony fangirls.

Well at least he didn’t find Frost Iron.

What?

Nothing...fuck I need to stop thinking, I keep forgetting that you can hear my thoughts. 

“You can’t be telling me that one day you just randomly found this on the internet.” Clint highly disagrees that this was just random.

“No, John named it that. It was our group project for our midterm. It was one of those prank shocker gadgets you can buy; we built one. It consists of a heavy magnet with a hand cranked electrical coil in the center. The unit produces an electrical shock to the two hand-held wands when the crank is turned. It wasn’t until Director Fury showed me a picture with the multiple copies in the background, did I then go look somethings up.”

“So you helped build this?” Natasha inquiries walking closer to you.

Great, now they probably think I’m working for Hydra.

“No just the original one. These have been changed; the magnets look like they have been changed from electromagnets to Samarium Cobalt magnets, there is the satellite dish where the hand held wands are supposed to connect and he has added two extra gears to the rotation system thus probably causing the voltage to skyrocket. Which would make it probably deadly if hit at the right spot.” You point to the different changes in the picture.

“Can you disarm them?” Tony asks.

“Probably but I would have to actually see it.”

“Come on then.” Tony grabs your hand and pulls you to the elevator. Without thinking you hand the jar to Fury as you pass him to the elevator.

“Steve put that on the burn.” You hope Steve heard you.

Down in one of Tony’s many labs is the M2 Shocker sitting on a table.

“Is it armed?”

“Yup.”

“How did it go off?” You cautiously walk closer.

“Motion sensor triggered it but it still has to be cranked to fire.”

“You have any chopsticks?”

“Here.” Tony hands you a pair of bamboo chopsticks.

“Thanks.” You’re surprised that Tony actually has chopsticks down here. Pulling Rufus out of your pocket, you squat down at the edge in the table and concentrate on propping the spring up off the magnet with the chopstick.

“What the? A cat, you had a cat in your pocket?”

“Ya, that’s Rufus.”

“How did you get a cat here?”

“Loki brought her from my apartment when he brought me some of my clothes.”

“Isn’t Rufus a male name?”

“So what, my friend had a bunch of kittens. I named all of them the day after they were born. So Rufus has no gender it’s just the name I picked before we knew what their genders were.”

“But why is Rufus here? Did you have her in your pocket the whole time?”

“Where I go Rufus goes. She is what you call an emotional support animal.”

“But a cat?” Tony seems to drop why Rufus is there but is confused on why I picked a cat.

“My dad is allergic to dogs. I need a Philips screwdriver.”

“So how long do you think it will take to figure out what we are dealing with?” Tony nods to the M2 Shocker.

“Not long once I get the cover off.” Tony brings over a Philips and flathead screwdrivers along with a socket wrench set. You undo the screws and slowly take off the outer shell of the machine. Working the gears off you notice a red light blinking, it’s hidden behind a gear near the spring. “Tony.”

“What?

“There’s a red light blinking.” You point to it as Tony leans in.

“Out...now!” Tony hands Rufus back and pushes you at the door. “Jarvis safety protocol: cherry bomb.”

~Protocol activated.~ 

Looking back you see the ceiling open up and a metal box dropped over the table. Tony shuts the door in time for a muffled boom to be heard.

“Did what I think it was, just happen?”

“Ya.”

“You got to be frickin’ kidding me. They hide tiny bombs in shit?” You start to slowly squeeze Rufus tighter.

“You better believe it.” Tony sighs slowly opening the door back up. Smoke instantly pours out flooding the hallway.

“Oi shut the door, shut the door!” You cough at the sudden amount of smoke.

“Jarvis clear the smoke and check to make sure everything is safe.” Tony rapidly closes the door.

“Stark what the hell is going on?” Director Fury looks livid as he stands in the hallway, looking more menacing than ever.

“There was a bomb hidden in the M2 Shocker. When Solana took the cover off, it activated.” Tony ignores Fury as he waves at the smoke that still lingers in the hall.

“All I saw was a blinking red light.” Rufus climbs half way up your shoulder and begins to nuzzle the side of your head. Automatically your hand comes up and begins to scratch Rufus’s head.

“You telling me that hydra has rigged all the machines to explode if tampered with?”

“Yes, they must have known that we would take one apart.” Tony begins to pace back and forth, getting impatient.

~Sir everything is safe now. ~

Jarvis thankful eases the tense and hastily opens the door. Tony heads back into the room. Something things are knocked over but everything is basically ok. The metal box is dented but intact.

“Jarvis raise the box.” Tony motions upwards.

~Yes sir. ~

“Someone want to explain how we missed a bomb hidden in that contraption.” Fury repeats harshly as he and tony circle the table. The M2 shocker is destroyed to tiny pieces and Tony’s tools are dented.

“We didn’t think there would be a bomb, so we glossed over the possibility.” Tony inspects his damaged tools.

“Solana give Tony a diagram of the original design and one of the changes you saw. Tony figure out how it works and disable it.” Fury heads back to the elevator.

“Okay.” You quickly answer watching Fury so you can stay out of his rampage.

“Solana what was in that jar?” Fury questions before leaving.

“Oh just a home remedy for burns. It has aloe vera, honey, baking soda and tea bag contents mixed together. I used to work grill in a restaurant; I got burnt all the time.”

Fury looks at Tony for a moment before finally officially leaving. You begin drawing the sketches on a touch screen Tony has given you.

“Solana, how did you know that Steve got burned today?” Tony asks quietly once beside you.

“Loki told me.”

“Ah, why?”

“I asked why ya’ll looked so grumpy. He said it was because Steve was electrocuted by one of the machines and got a burn from it.”

“Quick on the updates aren’t you.”

“Yup and there you go.” You smile presenting the screen to Tony.

“Thanks, you can go back. I can get this.” Tony wanders back to his main work table.

“You sure?”

“Ya no problem I’ll see what I got.” Tony doesn’t even look back at you as he waves towards the door.

“...Okay.” You walk away slowly getting the feeling that he is shooing you away.

To your discomfort the elevator opens to find Natasha and Clint already there. The ride back to Loki’s apartment is awkward. Natasha and Clint are talking about useless stuff as a diversion to their judgmental stares that you are pretending to ignore. This elevator ride seems to be taking forever and you are afraid that you might crack from the pressure building up. You almost break down Loki’s door trying to get inside, away from the judge-a-roos. Grabbing the pillows on the bed you plop down face first and scream into them. The rest of the evening you don’t leave the bedroom. You just stare at the ceiling and cuddle with Rufus. You even ignore all of Loki’s attempts of getting your attention.

~

“No...nhh, no.” Half asleep you keep wiggling in bed. Loki throws his arm around your waist to stop the restlessness. When it doesn’t work Loki’s arm slowly starts to tighten its hold.

“Solana stop squirming.” Loki mumbles.

You elbow in Loki in the chest and kick him in the leg in response of to the tightening around your waist and not being able to move. In the process you roll off the bed, pillow in hand with a thud and back up against the wall. You first response to Loki trying to touch you is to whack him in the face with the pillow.

“Solana stop!” Loki takes the pillow away. Fully awake now you can see what you have done and Loki is disgruntled.

“I-I...uh...I don’t think I can do this.” You crawl towards the door.

“What? Solana stop where are you going?” Loki blocks the door.

“To run away.”

“Solana talk to me.” Loki’s eyes are full of concern that his face would never show.

“I...these emotions are so overwhelming and I can feel literately feel the burn from their stares. Their stares full of shame and judgement of these coincidences...I’m starting to feel smothered and when you started squeezing my waist it made me feel trapped like I was being forced down and didn’t have a choice like...like before.” You grab the pillow back and cry into it.

“My opinion is the only one that matters, forget what they think. You are innocent and have nothing to hide.” As reassuring as Loki’s words may be, you can’t find the strength to speak or look him in the eye.

It doesn’t feel like it and I don’t like all of this attention.  

Try to calm down Solana, you can just stay in the apartment until you feel comfortable to go out. What emotions are making you overwhelmed?

...I don’t know what to call it... but I think I’m starting to like-like you and it scares me. I’ve never felt this way before and I’ terrified that it’s all going to be a lie. With my past no one is ever gonna want to be with me.

“Try to relax Solana, love is a difficult thing. It’s not your past that would ruin everything it's mine. You seem to forget that I tried to take over the world. Only death can separate us now I’m not leaving you for anything.”

Loki sits beside you and pulls you in; pillow and all, so can reset on his chest. You sit there in silence while the anxiety slowly goes away so you can sleep.

[sinningbadlyforaskeleton]

The Writer Flower Blooms

For some reason I wanted to share this story… On why and when I became a fanfiction writer. I basically felt like I should even if no one listens, heh. Anyway lets get to the point….

Basically I was in fifth grade, I was a kid, with alot of anger and strength, I never got along with people unless they were younger. I felt the need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, even if it meant getting myself in trouble, but never mind that. Back then computers were barely becoming important, it was during mid-school year I had a laptop provided from the school and started watching anime… InuYasha was the main anime I was into, so I started drawing and tracing it, which is where my love of art started, but thats a different story…

At the time I was seeing a therapist, her name was Lynn, I don’t remember her last name, but best to keep it that way. I remember one particular day I had it bad, I had just gotten detention again and was visiting Lynn, who by then heard on what happened. She explained to me that by bottling my emotions and anger will make me overflow on my anger and will eventually either hurt someone or myself.

Then she laid out a small, yet big book, blank pages and small divided separated by a yellowed folder-like file. “Here, this is like a diary” she says, “for now on write whatever you feel in here.” I remember scorning at the book, and frowned, “We both know I won’t use this, why give me this?”

“Sweetie,” she tells me, “you never know until you try.”

Even though I was against it, I took the book anyway, it laid in my dresser for three weeks… I focused my mind on Anime, InuYasha, drawing, singing, or watching videos.

One day During the night of October, I stumbled upon a fanfiction of InuYasha, “InuYasha’s Daughter: The Story of Keade.” I begun reading over it and became in love with it, I then decide searching similiar stories, each one better than the last. Until I decided to make my own, so taking the book, I begun writing, no plots, no reasons, no storyline, just inserted myself in the world and neglected the other main protagonist.

Typical Noob writer, but as I wrote the story I begun enraptured with it.

October 20, 2009

The Day I begun writing, the day that technically changed my way of thinking. Each and every day since then I wrote in my notebook, each chapter absurd and never made sense, but it made laugh and proud of the story I was writing.

I entitled it, “InuYasha Rewritten” Lame title I know, but remember I was Noob back then, anyway I was started getting into it. I then started experimenting and learning from other stories online, even gotten exposed to some “ahem” adult-theme ones. I wrote more stories, and original works which surprisingly my family been secretly been reading, thank Adonis, I hid those adult theme ones away. Anyway my family were surprised by my talent and implore me to keep on going with my works.

However once I returned the laptop on my final year… I stopped.

By the year of 2011, my family got a comupter… the old fashion ones, which was pretty good and in good shape. My mother made my first account with gmail and signed me up for Deviantart, as a birthday gift, she told me to write my stories and share my art on here. I was ecstatic… but got into games and never used the account until I lost the password and never used it again.

By the year 2013, I signed up into DA under a new username… HagenMochaCrystal, I started doing stories and sharing art alot more with a new laptop which generally for the family, but I mainly used it. I then found Fanfiction.net which with the same name begun making my first story on there about Black Butler… Angemon.

It wasn’t good, nor did it make sense, but I worked and completed my first story, which made me proud. Later in my middle school and High school year, I made “Black Maid” it was a success which was oddly was weird because of how weird it was, but according some it was rare to have a female-sebastian story and I was the first to make one noticed.

Then I remember saying, “I can think outside the box, make new and not thought about stories or mix them with unique crossovers!” So begun my quest to make unique or non-thought of stories. Black Maid has been finished for three years and many still continue to ask for a squeal.

I thought on more stories, before getting into Quotev, when my Attack on Titan, FNAF, and CreepyPasta stories are still up. the new username I went by was Mother Nightmare, which oddly nothing about her was terrifying. it wasn’t until between the year of 2014-2015, I had to stop writing due to the fact were lost the laptop and I had no phone. But I kept taps on my work which people oddly continue to enjoy… Later in my 7th-9th grade years, I had a new phone writing everything now in Quotev until Wattpad started, which led to the stories of Minecraft and MCD from the youtuber Aphmau, after watching a Do Not Laugh, I taken noticed of something on my dashboard…

Undertale.

Now this is where my true evolution began, possibly my nearly final stage as a free-hand writer. After watching the YouTuber JinBop I was in a bit of denial and downloaded the game for the hell of it… I then fell in love the minute I played, which led me to stories, which is where @bittersweetdeath appeared and with her and my best friend @mistermaria inspiration, I send an ask to join AO3. Months later… I was accepted as a User and went by SinningBadlyForASkeleton, and the same day I made my account on this site. My first test run on that site was the story of UnderFell “Call Me Mama” which in my opinion was highly acknowledged by the readers and they demanded more, the more I wrote for myself, the more they wanted. I truly explored and expanded my abilities of writing and feel so damn proud of it. To think it all started with that little notebook, over 51 chapters, worn by the years, glued and taped together… I still have that book even still to this day I keep writing in it.

Heh, I guess I feel I should… After all, the story isn’t a story until it’s complete.

Thanks for listening guys, keep on writing! and Love you all! ^^

[stormears]

Naruto Meme

Nobody tagged me for this. I do what I want. 

-

F A V O R I T E

Female Character - Sakura Haruno.

Male Character - Kakashi, Gaara, Sasori or Madara. 

Team - Team Kakashi. Or New Team Kakashi, since that version doesn’t have Sasuke in it. 

Sensei - Kakashi

Hokage - Tobirama.

Kage - Tobirama! Gaara is a close second. 

Village - I guess Konoha since most of my favorites are from there and it has pleasant and predictable sunny spring weather 95% of the year. 

Akatsuki Member - Sasori has been my fave for years, but I also really love Kakuzu. I have a Kakuzu rubber strap thing on my keys. 

Episode/Chapter -  Shippuden episodes 25 and 26, these are the well-animated Sasori vs Sakura episodes that highlighted one of Sakura’s best accomplishments across the whole story. I also liked that two-minute sequence in 322 where Edo Tensei’d Madara decimates the Shinobi Army. There’s a two-second shot in it of a female soldier holding a cross to her face and praying before the fight begins, which I think is one of the absolute best visual reminders that people are terrified of Madara. It had a much stronger impact than the endless power gimmicks or characters’ repeated poorly scripted exclamations of “wow he/this technique is so powerful.” 

Fight Scene - Sakura vs Sasori! Or Kakashi vs Hidan and Kakuzu. 

Fanfiction -  I love so many fanfictions. I’ve been creepily attached to fanfictions since I was 12. If I had to pick a favorite I gueeeess I’d go with He Had No Fingers by Gleam. Kyuubi is a monstrous, conscious-less god whose influence eats away at child Naruto easily. He takes over Naruto and then Konoha and the world is next. Made me woozy reading it the first time, I’ll never forget. 

Story Arc - Rescue Gaara Arc, I guess, but I don’t enjoy whole arcs as much as I do small, separate moments or scenes or even just manga pages in the story. 

Filler - Aren’t the movies filler? I kind of enjoy the third movie where Lee, Naruto, Sakura and Kakashi act as bodyguards for a fat, lazy prince, his son, and the son’s saber-toothed circus tiger. 

What is your…

OTP (explain why) - I’m a crackshipping freak who builds 30k+ long stories and worlds to support romantic scenes of my weird ships, don’t ask me this. 

NoTP (without being a dick, explain why) - I do not like like Sasuke or Karin, and seeing them romantically together is not any improvement to me. I think that Sasuke never went through emotional growth or recovery and only changed his loyalties near the end of the war because Kishimoto was desperate, overworked, and weakly reaching for finish line, and many characters and story events reflected that reality. I waited years’ worth of manga chapters and episodes for him to change and by the time he did, I was long past buying it. Karin was a screechy, annoying brat from Day 1 and never improved her attitude or personality, but I didn’t enjoy seeing her used as a meat shield by Danzo, either. In short, two bad characters don’t make a good pairing. 

Crackship/s - My worst and favorite offenses are probably SasoSaku, since 2007-ish and MadaSaku since 2010. 

BroTP - This is barely present in my writing, but, kinda, Ino and Sakura. Maybe Kakuzu and Konan. 

OT3 - I don’t know what this means besides 3 characters I want to see having an orgy or engaged in a polygamous relationship? I guess I could be coerced into reading/liking those but there’s none in particular that I like consistently or remember offhand.

Crossover ship - I don’t crossover ship. Not opposed to it, the examples I’ve seen talked about briefly on tumblr (mostly in anime confession blogs) are intriguing, but I don’t have a ship like this myself. 

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

Do you have any headcanons? All sorts of assorted things. Ino’s mom is a civilian. Itachi WISHES he was a civilian or could retire and live a peaceful domestic life. Shino likes art and would read art/art criticism magazines if Naruto-land has those, and could be friends with Sai. Kisame loves boardgames and is a good sportsman in any game or sport he plays. Sakura likes to read non-fiction/informational books more than novels. Tenten loves horses. Kiba is really close to his sister but doesn’t want people outside the family knowing that because he’s scared other guys will make fun of him. Civilian children stay in school till roughly age 16, compared to the Ninja Academy graduating age of 12. 

Are you happy with the ending? Would you have done things differently? I’m not happy with it, but I’m also not invested in it enough to really care. It was always the characters, not the story, that drew me into Naruto (maybe just the basic skeletons of the characters at that, skeletons I could build onto and “fix” in fanfiction). To “do things differently” I would fix a lot more than the ending, though if I could erase ONE thing from the ending it would be the sudden prevalence of modern-day technology like skyscrapers, laptops and handheld video games. 

How do you feel about the Next Generation? Shrug. Boruto and Himawari are cute and remind me of me and my big brother a bit. I kinda liked the first few weeks of the manga’s ending, when there was still confusion about whether to call him Boruto or “Bolt,” because I was rooting for Bolt.  

Say something about your favorite character. Sakura Haruno had huge expanses of room for improvement in her ninjutsu, tactics, and respect given to her by other characters and by viewers and all of this was squandered by an author who had many other, bigger problems to deal with and was probably indifferent to her at best. She is safer in the hands of fans, of artists and writers, who treat her better and create better content about her than her creator did. She has been adopted by several thousand loving moms and a few dads and will be well cared for. 

What would a child between your OTP look like? Going for my crackships here again. SaoSaku child has red hair, but Sakura’s face and her mom’s outspoken attitude and a talent for musical instruments. MadaSaku child, lord, I don’t know. I like to think the pink or at least reddish hair would prevail but all laws of the universe say Uchiha black hair always wins. The child would, at least, have the thickest and most gorgeous head of hair in town. 

Say something genuinely nice about your NoTP.  Some people out there really like it, and it and content about it makes them happy in the way that my favorite ships make me happy, and that’s good stuff. Glad for them. 

Say something negative about your OTP. They’re groundless nonsense pairings that I would be embarrassed to ever acknowledge outside my tiny internet circles and both the men involved in those two pairings are canonically horrible people who ought to be stabbed.

Is there any way you could be convinced to ship your NoTP? I would need a fanfic, 5k+ length minimum, but I could go up to 20k, allowing time and space for them to calm down and recover from their respective traumas and get over their respective dumb bitch attitudes, and then slowly build a friendship that becomes a romance, ideally with a storyline and theme and a writing style that I could get behind. Not to mention the time of day to read a doorstop novella like that. 

What makes you mad about the series? The War Arc’s need to make every important character as powerful as possible crushed any sense of threat or disbelief. The constant upping of the stakes was annoying and came off as desperate (though I strongly believe that behind it was an overworked zombie Kishimoto mindlessly trying to fill that week’s page quota and wondering if he would ever have an actual life again).

If you could see anything happen in the series, what would it be? The final arc is the Akatsuki invading Konoha with the intention of kinapping/killing Naruto, but the entire village has rallied and is prepared to fight. The story cuts between three or four fights between Akatsuki and Konoha ninja till all Akatsuki are defeated. Maybe reveal Madara as the secret leader of the Akatsuki and defeat him here, too. During the conflict, Naruto has proven himself for the final time, is adored by the village, crowned Hokage within a year or so, happy ending. Pairings left undetermined or hinted at vaguely. Fin. (Other possible ending at bottom of post)

What would you say to Kishimoto if given the chance? I’m so sorry for the hardship and stress you endured all these years, all that time away from your family. I still have to thank you for all the joy your story brought to me. It allowed me to get closer to my friends, make new friends, even start to tap into my own writing ability. You did all that for me without even knowing it. I’ll always be grateful to you! 

In your opinion…

Most attractive male? Sometimes I think it’s Madara, and sometimes I’ll see some screenshot of a poorly animated episode and think he looks awful and I’m embarrassed that ever liked him. Sasori has this unjustly beautiful face that I love but definitely a few shots in is episodes where he looks kinda...off. Kakashi’s pretty unarguably attractive, though, so he’s a safe bet for most attractive. 

Most attractive female? Lol depends on the fanartist, I’ve seen gorgeous art for almost all female characters. In the manga or anime, I don’t really find any of them attractive. 

Most overestimated? Plenty, especially given the war arc. Sasuke or Itachi? At least years ago when I actually followed forums and manga review blogs (not on tumblr) there seemed to be a consensus that Sasuke could do anything, by kicking up enough notches on his Susano’o, and later some said that for Itachi, and then Madara showed up and could rarely be actually overestimated, and then Kaguya was a literal god and, ugh...

Not appreciated enough? Tobirama! 

What is the greatest thing about Naruto? It’s brought me a lot of personal happiness.

The worst? How the quality of its writing drifted from “meh” to “ugh” over the years. 

The saddest moment? There’s a few pages in the manga that show Naruto slowly gaining more friends as he gets older while Gaara stays alone in a space of empty desert that gets wider and wider as he goes to his knees. A strong and painful reminder that while one person may be smiling and enjoying life, simultaneously another is being strangled by the crushing misery of their own life. I’m so glad for Gaara finally fixing himself and finding real happiness. He’s the character who went through the best development and most change in the story, bar none. 

The most defining? The Chuunin Exam Arc is what most people remember, in my experience. But to me the first opening song of Shippuden “defines” it in my mind. 

Rant about anything…

GO! I never once imagined that this could happen in canon/reality, but I think the greatest way to end the story would be for Naruto himself to have to kill Sasuke. This would hammer in a message to the story that I think it could really use: despite Naruto’s hopes and good intentions, despite all his hard work, he cannot save everyone. And it would give a real sense of consequence. I never once felt that the main cast was in danger from all the fireballs, summoning animals, 10-ton rocks that hit them in the fucking face and never left more than a light scratch or dust mark on their steroid Hercules bodies. Even in a war the likes of which Ninjaland has never seen, bringing more and more godlike charcters together whose powers could end thousands of people in seconds, Neji seems to be the only notable casualty (lol bye Neji) and for all the good guys to make it out of such a conflict alive and well is absolute horseshit and not worthwhile storytelling of a war. Somebody important has to lose a battle, or lose someone they love, or lose a limb, something! Let me believe that any of these fights matter! Let me really feel that this conflict, this battlefield is dangerous and people are scared for their lives and hurt but fighting anyway, let me see something besides this gross, hollow shonen movie poster of good guys overcoming bad just by virtue of being good guys with dumbshit magic powers that the author-god gave them for free. Let me take these characters and put them in the hands of some fanfic writers who could write better fights than these in their sleep. Let me read fanfic instead. 

[gabbygumswrites]

Once Upon a Memory - A Sherlock/John Fanfiction

Once Upon a Memory

Fandom: Sherlock (TV) and To the Moon (Video Game)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Crossover, Drama&Romance, Memory Alteration, Original Characters, Canon Comnpliant

Words:19,556

Summary:There exists a technology allowing doctors to weave artificial memories, to grant patients a life they wish they had lived, but didn’t. But due to the severity of the procedure on the mind, it is only used on the dying, such that the “new life“ becomes the last thing the patient remembers before drawing their last breath. (excerpt from the summary of To the Moon)

Ellie and Katsuki are summoned to John Watson's death bed to fulfill his last wish. However, his wish is more puzzling to them than they would have anticipated.

NOTE: Both Sherlock and John die in this story, but bear in mind that it takes place at the end of their lifes. Please don't let this scare you off!

Even though this story is a crossover between the TV series Sherlock and the video game To the Moon you do not need any prior knowledge to the latter to understand the story (but I would recomment you check out the game, it is really beautiful!).

AO3 Link

You can read the fanfiction on AO3 (see link above), or you can read it below. Feel free to share it but please link back to either my AO3 account or my tumblr account . Enjoy!

“Did you remember to pick up the file?” she asked, fastening her seatbelt. He heaved a dramatic sigh and waved a brown folder in front of her.

“Yes, sir,” he said, scathingly. “Honestly, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, so stop treating me like a child.”

She turned to face him, her face blank. “But you do forget something every time we’re on a case. Show me the file.” She reached out to take the folder, but he snatched it away from her.

“You can look at it when we’re there,” he said. “Better we get a move on, now. You never know when your patient decides to die.”

She pursed her lips in dismay and regarded him warily. He pointedly didn’t look at her, and stared through the windscreen at the concrete wall in front of them.

“Katsuki,” she said in a tone that didn’t bode well. “Show me the file.”

She extended her hand, and waited. He didn’t react, just continued ignoring her. But she knew him well. She knew he would resign sooner rather than later.

It took maybe five seconds before he heaved a long-suffering sigh and handed her the file.

“I really hate you sometimes,” he said. “And I’m not pouting.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, and took the file.

She opened it and looked at the first sheet containing their patient’s details. She scanned the address, the name, age, and some details on the medical history. There wasn’t anything unusual. But she was certain that Katsuki was hiding something from her. While she read the file he was sitting beside her, fiddling with the hem of his lab coat. She looked at the patient’s name again. There was something awfully familiar about this particular name.

“Wait a minute,” she said, looking up at the man beside her. “John Watson…”

Katsuki gave her an apologetic smile. And then it hit her.

“We can’t take this case, and you bloody well know why!” She thrust the folder back at him and unbuckled her seatbelt. “We have to tell Mortimer, or otherwise there will be –”

“No, wait!” He grabbed her by the arm to stop her from storming out of the car. “Please, Ellie, I want to take this case.”

She turned to stare at him. He looked at her with pleading eyes.

“You know we are not allowed to take up any cases that may have us emotionally compromised,” she explained, swatting away is hand.

“But that only applies to relatives and friends,” he said, somewhat smugly.

She rolled her eyes at him and sighed. “That’s not what I mean.”

Their eyes met in the semi-darkness of the car. She looked at him intently, hoping that she would not have to explain what she meant. He, in turn, looked at her like she was completely daft.

“Katsuki,” she said, more gently. “John Watson and Sherlock Holmes solved your mother’s murder.”

He averted his gaze and sagged back into his seat.

“We don’t know what we’ll see in his memories,” she continued. She looked down at the file clutched in his hands. Then she added, her voice just a whisper, “I don’t want you to see anything you don’t have to.”

They were silent for a while, both looking at the file in his hands.

“I know,” he said eventually.

She looked up and smiled. “Let’s take this and ask Mortimer to take over. I’m sure he won’t mind –”

“No!” Katsuki said, snatching the file away from her just as she tried to take it.

“For fuck’s sake, Katsu! You are so unreasonable sometimes!”

“This is not about me,” he said, holding the file aloft. He met her gaze with fierce eyes. “I have to do this for Doctor Watson. I need to do something for him in return.”

She had gone very still, her eyes had gone serious, searching his face.

They didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at each other. She was battling with that part of her that didn’t want to expose him to potential harm, and that part of her that would do anything for him.

“You want to do this for whom?” she asked eventually. “Yourself, or John Watson?”

He hesitated. “Both, I guess.”

She gave him a calculating look, then sagged back into her seat and buckled up again.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she sighed. He smiled at her and buckled himself up, putting the file into the glove compartment. She gave him a sidelong glance and turned the keys. She would definitely regret this. But for now, she has to compose herself; emotions weren’t exactly an advantage in her profession.

“You better pray Mortimer doesn’t find out.” She turned and steered the car out of the parking lot.

“I’m not religious,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Me neither,” she said.

*

“Honestly, you could help me carry this at least sometimes.”

They were standing in front of a small cottage, somewhere out in the woods, with no other people for miles. Katsuki was carrying the equipment while Ellie had resorted to carrying the file and knocked at the door.

“You’re the man,” she said, looking back at him, winking. He rolled his eyes.

Just then a woman opened the door. She looked them both up and down, unsure of who her visitors were this late at night. She looked harassed; her blond, curly hair was dishevelled, and she looked like she hadn’t slept for a while.

“Good evening,” Ellie said, extending her hand. The woman took it, her eyes perplexed. “I am Doctor Elizabeth Fletcher, and this is my colleague, Doctor Katsuki Ono.” Katsuki gave her a little wave, but his hand quickly went back to holding unto the equipment.

The woman let go of Ellie’s hand, still looking confused.

Ellie leaned in a bit, as if she was going to tell her a secret. “We are from Sigmund Corp.”

Realisation dawned on her, and she stepped aside and waved them in. “Of course, yes, I’m so sorry.”

Ellie and Katsuki stepped into the narrow hallway.

“I presume you are his daughter?” Ellie asked, consulting her folder.

“Yes,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I’m Rosie Watson. Please call me Rosie,” she added, smiling faintly at them. “He’s in his bedroom.”

She walked towards one of the doors at the back of the house, and Ellie and Katsuki follwed her.

“He didn’t want to go to a hospital,” she said, gripping the door handle but looked back at them anxiously. “I hope this isn’t inconvenient?”

“Not at all,” Katsuki said, heaving the equipment to his other side. “We often go to the patient’s house.”

Rosie nodded, then opened the door and led them inside.

And there he lay, Doctor John Watson, unconscious and attached to a myriad of machines. The bedroom was small as it was, but the machines made it even more claustrophobic. Rosie went to sit on a chair next to the bed, taking hold of her father’s hand.

The heart monitor beeped steadily.

Ellie moved to look at it. Katsuki put down the equipment with a bang. Ellie turned to glare at him.

“Doctor Swift will be with us in a minute,” Rosie said, not averting her eyes from her father’s still figure. “She’ll control his vitals.”

Ellie nodded. “We’ll set up our equipment.”

They were all silent then, setting up the machine on the small desk in the corner of the room. Only the steady sound of the heart monitor was audible.

“How does it work?” Rosie suddenly asked. Ellie had just retrieved one of the helmets to set it down on the bedside table. She looked up at Rosie, who had fixed her green eyes at her. “I mean, I know that you are a ‘wish fulfilment service’ who can grant any dying man’s wish. But how?”

“It is fairly simple,” Ellie said and stepped up next to her. She coughed slightly. “Depending on what the patient wishes for, we travel through the memories and transfer the desire for, say, flying to the moon, in early childhood, and with the combined help of modern technology,” she indicated the equipment in the corner, “and the human brains desire to tell a comprehensive story, the memories are altered to fulfil said wish.”

“You mean that his current memories are wiped out to be replaced by another, imagined life he never had?” Rosie looked up at her with wide eyes. From the corner of her eyes, Ellie could see Katsuki hang his head. It sounded a lot worse put like that. That was the reason why many people didn’t like Sigmund Crop very much.

“This is our job,” Ellie said. “It is what your father has asked us to do.”

Rosie gazed at both of them, then her eyes sank down to look at her father. “I know,” she sighed. “It just feels...wrong. To let him go with memories of something that never happened.”

Katsuki walked over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It is what he wished for. His last wish.”

“I know,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears. “Who can deny a dying man’s last wish?” She wiped the tears away, and Katsuki let his hand drop to his side.

“Speaking of wishes, we need to know his wish to implement it accordingly,” Ellie said.

Rosie shook her head. “I don’t know it.”

Katsuki and Ellie exchanged confused looks, but Rosie explained, “He left a letter with the solicitor explaining his wish.” She looked at the clock just above the door. “He should arrive any minute.”

Right at that moment there was a knock on the door. Rosie jumped up and hastened to the front door.

Ellie looked up at Katsuki, brows furrowed. “This is unusual,” she said. Katsuki just shrugged, and looked down at the sleeping figure of John Watson.

Then there was shuffling, and Rosie re-entered the room, followed closely by a tall, dark woman and a short man who looked rather hassled.

“This is Doctor Swift,” Rosie said, inclining her head to the woman. They nodded at each other. “And this is Mister...” Rosie began, turning around to look at the man behind her, raising her eyebrows in question.

"Montgomery. I am in charge of Doctor Watson’s will.”

He extended his hand and Ellie and Katsuki took it in turns.

“I don’t want to panic anyone, but we might have to start the procedure soon,” Katsuki said, glancing at the heart monitor.

Doctor Swift stepped up next to the monitor and examined it and her patient. “It will be fine. He is stable.” She looked up at Rosie, who had taken her seat on the other side of the bed. “He will be fine for the procedure, I can assure you of that.”

“Well, then, even though this might be the case, I’d like to hand over Doctor Watson’s will now,” Montgomery piped up. He was still standing at the door, clutching his briefcase and looking between Ellie and Katsuki. “Is there anywhere we can…?” He looked over at Rosie. She pointed out the door to the kitchen and he turned to walk out of the room.

The kitchen was small, but cosy, and they could look right into the garden from where they sat down at the kitchen table. Montgomery placed his briefcase on the table and started to rummage through it, producing an envelope. He placed it on the table in front of him, shoving his briefcase away with one hand. The envelope was sealed.

“Doctor Watson was particularly adamant that the contents of this envelope went directly to the people in charge of his wish.” He slid the envelope over to Katsuki, who took it tentatively, but didn’t open it. Instead, he stared at it with wide eyes. Montgomery folded his hands on the table and waited. Ellie glanced at Katsuki’s profile. Of course he would choose this exact moment to question whether this had been a good idea.

“Let me do this,” she said, taking the envelope out of his hands and opened it. Inside was a small piece of paper, which she unfolded and read in silence. She was aware that Katsuki was watching her every move.

Dear Sir or Madam, I thank you kindly for taking up my case. I have had a good life. I won’t deny that. But as you are aware, there is one thing that I have wished for for the majority of my life, and I hope you can help me fulfil this wish. It is very simple; I want to tell Sherlock Holmes the truth. I believe that you will be able to fulfil my wish and transfer this desire at the appropriate moment. Yours sincerely, John Watson

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up in to her hairline. Wordlessly, she handed the letter over to Katsuki, then took the envelope and peered into it, wondering whether they had missed another piece of paper. In the meantime, Katsuki had finished reading the letter himself, and starred up at Montgomery in dismay.

“Is that all?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. Mister Montgomery looked from him to Ellie, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Katsuki said, holding up the letter for Mister Montgomery to inspect, “Does not tell us anything about his last wish.”

“Well he did,” Ellie chimed in. “It’s just that we don’t know what he means by that.”

Mister Montgomery took the letter and read it.

“Doctor Watson had assured me that you would know exactly what you had to do,” he said, taking out a handkerchief to wipe at his forehead. “Quite frankly, I can’t make anything of this either.”

He put down the letter, and the three of them stared at it, completely thrown off course.

Katsuki leaned back, ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“I have to confess, if we don’t get anything more specific, we might not be able to do anything,” Ellie said.

“But we have to!” Katsuki said, letting his hands fall down to his sides. He looked imploringly at Ellie, but she just shrugged.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, but if we don’t know what ‘the truth’ is, then how are we supposed to do anything about it?” She leaned back in her own chair, her gaze wandering around the kitchen. “And besides, even if we knew that, what does he mean by the ‘appropriate moment’?”

They were silent for a moment. “Maybe Miss Watson knows something?” Katsuki said hopefully. He glanced over at Mister Montgomery, who was looking rather unhappy. “We are allowed to discuss this matter with her?”

Mister Montgomery fiddled with his thumbs. They all knew that there must have been a reason why Doctor Watson had left the letter with the solicitor rather than a close relative, but under such circumstances, how were they supposed to know what they should do? Maybe he didn’t want his daughter to know, but that also meant that even Rosie wouldn’t know anything, and then their job was done.

After a long pause, Montgomery finally said, “I suppose this needs more investigation than any of us had anticipated.”

At his words, Katsuki’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Oh, this man,” he said, shaking his head, “that’s exactly what he wanted us to do.”

Ellie gave a disbelieving huff, but Katsuki ignored her. “We need to talk to Miss Watson,” he said, standing up. Ellie wasn’t at all convinced that this was what Doctor Watson had intended for them to do, but she guessed that they wouldn’t lose anything by talking to his daughter. Katsuki took the letter and stalked out of the room, and Ellie and Montgomery scrambled up to follow him.

When they re-entered the bedroom, Doctor Swift and Rosie were sitting side by side gazing at the heart monitor. They looked up when Katsuki entered. Rosie sucked in her breath.

“Are you able to start?” she asked.

“In fact, no,” Katsuki said. “We need to talk to you for a moment, if that is alright with you.”

Rosie’s brows furrowed, then she stood and went out of the room, leading them back into the kitchen. Mister Montgomery excused himself and left them for the time being, seeing as he was unable to add anything to the matter at hand.

“Oh god, I’m such a bad hostess,” Rosie said and hurried over to the cabinets to retrieve some cups and a packet of teabags. Ellie wanted to wave it off, but Rosie insisted and only sat down when everyone had a cup of tea standing in front of them.

Without another word, Katsuki handed her the letter.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Your father’s last wish,” Ellie said. “We thought you might be able to make something of this.” She looked at her watch. “And I really don’t want to say this, but we might need to hurry. The procedure itself will take a while, and we need to start as soon as possible before...” Ellie didn’t finish the sentence, just let it hang in the air.

Rosie’s face crumpled, but she quickly caught herself again. She unfolded the letter and started to read. Katsuki and Ellie watched as her nose scrunched up in confusion. Then her eyes shone with realization, and she huffed a laugh that was thick with sadness and regret.

Katsuki leaned on the table, his eyes big. “So, you do know what he means?”

“Yes,” she said, and tears welled up in her eyes, “I know exactly what he means.”

She started to cry, and Ellie produced a handkerchief from her lab coat pocket and handed it over. They waited patiently until Rosie had calmed down.

“Sherlock Holmes was my father’s best friend,” she began, her voice wobbling.

“I know,” Katsuki chimed in. Ellie swatted his arm before he could say anything else, making an annoyed tutting sound. He winced and rubbed is arm.

Rosie looked between the two. Before Ellie could stop him, Katsuki went on, “Sherlock Holmes and John Watson solved my mother’s murder.”

Rosie smiled at him. “I have to say I rarely meet someone who hadn’t consulted them one way or the other. It’s fine.” Ellie gave Katsuki another shove when Rosie added, “Then I think you know that he and my father raised me after my mother had died?” They nodded, but both felt too uncomfortable to look directly at her.

Rosie leaned back in her seat, gazing into nothingness, while recalling her life with two of the greatest men of their age.

“When I was old enough to talk, I called my father ‘daddy’ and Sherlock Holmes ‘pa.’ My father told me time and again that Sherlock wasn’t actually my father, and I never knew what he meant by that. And Sherlock never seemed to mind, so I kept on calling him ‘pa.’ I only knew them as my family. I never missed my mother.”

She gazed at Katsuki and Ellie at that, looking apologetic. “You see, I never knew her. I saw pictures and recordings, and father often told me that I was just like her, but I never wanted to meet her. Fact is, I had two loving fathers, so why should I be sad not having a third parent?

“I had a fun childhood. I learned so much from both. Even though they often got themselves into a lot of trouble, and I was often scared for them, I still loved them.” She shook her head. “I’m getting side-tracked, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Katsuki said. “Keep going.”

“I think,” Rosie continued, “that there was only one thing that always confused me about those two.”

Katsuki had managed to sit on the edge of his chair with anticipation, nearly falling off of it. Ellie grabbed his lab coat under the desk and held unto it.

“They were madly in love. Everyone who had eyes knew this. But apparently they didn’t.”

Ellie gaped at her. Was Rosie implying that Doctor Watson and Sherlock Holmes, who had solved mysteries that no one else could have cracked, were too blind to see their mutual affection for each other? She looked over at Katsuki, who looked just as gobsmacked as she did.

Rosie laughed. “You look shocked.” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki said. “But Sherlock Holmes was one of the most intelligent people on this planet! How could he not pick up on this?”

Rosie shook her head, still laughing. “Emotions are messy, and Sherlock never really quite knew how to pick up on them. Because you can’t explain them away with logic. And my father, well, he was good at talking himself into things that weren’t necessarily true.

“But seeing this,” Rosie picked up the letter, “and thinking about the last talk we had, I think my father only just came to realize what Sherlock actually meant to him.”

She went silent, starring down at the letter, deep in thought. Ellie saw that she was fighting her tears this time.

“So, this means that ‘the truth,’ as your father put it, is that he is in love with Sherlock Holmes?” Ellie asked. Rosie nodded.

“Do you know whether he knew that Mister Holmes felt the same?”

Rosie looked up, considering this. “To be honest, I don’t know,” she said.

They all went silent again.

“You now,” Rosie said, “I think my father might have loved Sherlock Holmes from the very moment he met him.”

Katsuki looked up and raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

Rosie sighed, leaning back in her chair again. “I read all of my father’s notes, and I found his old blog entries.” She scrunched up her nose at the thought. “He told me not to, but seriously, you can’t tell your daughter about things like that and expect her not to be curious enough to go on a rampant Google hunt.“ She gave them a mischievous smile. Ellie snorted.

“Just thinking about their very first case...I mean, my father did run into danger without even thinking about it, and I’m certain he saved Sherlock’s life that night.”

She looked up at them, her face turning completely serious. “I think he might have killed for Sherlock.”

There was a shocked pause. Ellie really didn’t know how to handle that information. She’d rather wished Rosie hadn’t just said that; but on the other hand, this might be the information they needed to finally do their job. And Ellie was starting to get desperate to get this over with.

“Miss… Rosie,” she said slowly, drawing both Rosie’s and Katsuki’s eyes on her. “You’re father wrote that he was confident that we’ll choose the appropriate moment for his wish.” Ellie looked into Rosie’s eyes. Even though she was smiling, they were filled with sadness. Katsuki just raised an eyebrow at her. “Which means you told us this so we would implement his wish as soon as he meets Sherlock Holmes?” Rosie’s cast her eyes down to the table, and nodded.

“But that means,” Katsuki said, finally realizing the dilemma, “that your father will forget that you ever existed.” He heaved a sigh, leaning back in his chair and raising his hands to rub at his temples.

“I don’t mind,” Rosie said, and even though her voice was thick with sadness, she sounded sincere. “It’s okay. He deserves it.”

Normally, Ellie didn’t let herself feel sorry for her client, let alone their family. But something about this particular case resonated within her, and she felt a deep compassion towards the woman sitting in front of her. Against her better judgement, she reached out and cupped Rosie’s hand with hers. “Are you sure this is alright, Rosie?”

Rosie’s head had snapped up at the sudden touch, and she gave Ellie a calculating glance before she gave a weak smile and nodded. Ellie smiled back, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before she removed it. Who she wanted to reassure, she didn’t quite know.

“Alright, I think that is cleared up,” Katsuki said, standing up. He looked down at Ellie. “I think we can start now.”

Rosie stood and Katsuki made to leave, but Ellie caught his arm. “I’d like to have a word with you,” she said. Rosie left the kitchen without mentioning it. Katsuki sat down again.

“I feel bad,” Ellie confessed, looking down at her hands. She was playing with the hem of her lab coat.

“That’s a first for you,” Katsuki said, raising an eyebrow at her. Ellie thought he might mock her for that, given that she had always been the level-headed one of the two. Instead, he sagged into his chair, his face sullen. “But I know what you mean.”

They were silent for a moment. They both knew they had to go through with this. Doctor Watson had already paid for their service, and they both prided themselves with their mutual indifference to any cases they got. The truth was, of course, that this job was emotionally draining even for the best of their company, and that was why emotional detachment was a must. Ellie knew that this case should have gone to someone else. Maybe Mortimer himself. She had only agreed not to hand over the case because Katsuki had looked so damn desperate. But looking at him now, and seeing how this affected her already, she wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore.

“Do you think we can handle this without any interaction?” Ellie asked.

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d rather keep everything else as personal as possible for him.” He heaved a heavy sigh then. He looked very tired. “But I don’t think it’ll be possible. Just like any other time. We never manage to handle this as clinically as we wish to.” They went silent again.

“I don’t believe that he has to forget about his daughter,” Ellie said suddenly, unscrewing her hands and placing them flat on the table. “There must be a better time after she was born to implement the wish.”

He looked up at Ellie, and their eyes both met with determination flaring up in them. They had to set their eyes on the goal. There was no going back now.

“I absolutely agree,” Katsuki said fiercely. “Besides, if we implement the wish too early, it might not turn out the way we want it to.”

“Right,” Ellie said, and they smiled at each other. “Let’s do this.”

*

Katsuki sat at the little table, and Ellie sat on a chair right next to him, holding the helmets they would wear. They had already put the third one on Doctor Watson. Rosie hadn’t looked all too happy about it. She was sitting on her chair looking more worried than before.

“Calibrations complete,” Katsuki said, tapping away on his keyboard.

Ellie looked over at Rosie and Doctor Swift. “We’re ready to start,” she said.

Katsuki took hold of one of the helmets and put it on. Rosie looked down at her hand which was intertwined with her father’s unresponsive one.

Ellie was about to put on her own helmet when suddenly Rosie blurted out, “Does it hurt?”

Ellie lowered her helmet, and gave Rosie a weak smile. “It doesn’t hurt per se,” she started, unsure how to choose her words properly, “but it might be….exhausting. That is why this procedure is only legal to perform on people about to die.”

Ellie hoped she had conveyed everything without lying or frightening Rosie. She didn’t say anything, and continued staring at her father. Doctor Swift brought up a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “Okay,” she finally said, and Ellie gave her a last reassuring smile before she put on her helmet.

“Engaging,” Katsuki said, tapping again. “Accessing last available memory.”

*

There was a flash of colours and shapes, nothing that could be grasped precisely by looking at it, as if everything only existed at the periphery of her vision, disappearing if looked at closely. It didn’t last for long, but Ellie felt the bile rise in her throat anyway. It was always the initial memory that made her feel that way, and even after years of being at Sigmund Corp, she couldn’t get used to it.

“Disabling vision and sound,” Katsuki said, and Ellie heard his voice as if he had crawled right into her head. She swallowed, hard, then blinked away the colours still swirling behind her eyes.

They were standing in a tiny, glaringly white room. It was a hospital room. A bed was standing in the middle with Doctor Watson propped up on huge cushions. Numerous tubes were connected to his arms from top to bottom, their ends disappearing into nothingness. He was looking at his daughter, who was sitting, oddly enough, on a fancy chair right next to his bed. She held unto his hand, just the way she did back in his bedroom in his tiny cottage.

This must have been only a few days ago, but Rosie looked younger than she did now, and she was glowing, the brightest thing in the room. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Dad, you can’t give up now,” she said, gripping his hand harder. “There’s still so much they can do.”

Watson gave her a weak smile. “Rosie, I’m a doctor, and I know when someone’s a lost cause,” he said, reaching out to wipe the tears from her face. “But that’s okay, sweetheart. It is what it is.” Rosie shook her head, and her eyes became furious.

Ellie and Katsuki had watched from the foot of the bed, but at this Katsuki coughed and pointedly looked around the empty room. They needed to find the object – the memento – which would enable them to jump to the next memory.

They could never be sure which exact object would lead them to the next memory. Sometimes, it was easy; when a memory didn’t contain much objects to start with, for example. Other times, the spaces were crammed with stuff, like the time Ellie and Katsuki had to work with a woman gifted with an eidetic memory. If anyone at Sigmund Corp was asked, they would be unable to explain how they acquired their mementos. It took each staff member months to perfect it, which was why each new member was paired with an older, much more experienced doctor to train with. Just like her colleagues, Ellie had trouble explaining the kind of intuition that went into this. When she tried to explain it to her niece once she said, “It’s like searching for something that glows brighter than anything else, but not quite, and that emits something like personal belonging.”

Ellie joined the search, her eyes raking around the room. It couldn’t even be described as such; there were no windows, no definite edges. Everything was white, crumbling into nothingness. There wasn’t much besides the bed, chair, and the four of them.

“It’s okay, Rosie. I had a long life. Maybe too long, actually.”

Rosie’s eyes hardened. “That is incredibly selfish,” she said.

Watson’s smile fell from his face. “I know,” he said, turning his head to look into the distance. “And that is why, Rosie, you always need to be daring,” he said, looking back at his daughter. “Don’t ever shy away from anything. Life is too short. No chance lasts forever. It’s gone before you know it. Before you know it, Rosie.”

His eyes had gone more and more agitated, and he had sat up straighter with every word. Rosie looked confused, and she grew alarmed when her father clutched her hands with both of his, looking at her imploringly.

“Promise me that you take every chance, will you?”

Rosie was too speechless to say anything, and her father placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her. “Promise me!”

“Yes, I will,” she said.

Watson gave a sigh of relief, and let himself fall back unto his bed. “Thank you.”

His gaze wandered off into the distance. Ellie could make out the distinct sound of the wind howling through trees.

“I found it!”

Katsuki had walked around the bed and pointed at something. Ellie followed him and saw a walking stick propped up next to the bed.

“I’ll enable the memento.” Katsuki said moving closer.

There was a flash of colours, and the hospital was gone.

*

The next thing they saw was Watson leaning on the walking stick. He was looking down at something, and they both had to walk around him to see it.

A gravestone.

It was dark and tall, seeming to tower over them, but then not. The area around them was filled with other gravestones, but they were blank. In the distance the trees and grass blurred as if they were trying to see underwater.

Ellie and Katsuki stood on either side of Watson, looking down at the gravestone. It read ‘Sherlock Holmes.’ Nothing more.

Watson was standing there, starring down at the name, clutching his cane. The air was thick, and it seemed hard to breathe. Ellie and Katsuki exchanged glances and decided with a nod to pay tribute to a magnificent person, even though it was just in the mind of someone else, even though this person didn’t even know they were invading his memories.

So they stood in silence. Ellie could distinctly make out a sort of calm acceptance. But there was also the smell of anger, and sadness. Sadness that seemed to seep right into her bones; it felt like ocean waves sapping at the sand beneath her feet, slowly carrying it away.

Ellie wasn’t sure how long they should wait. She didn’t even know what the next memento was. It was not the gravestone. And she was certain it wasn’t the walking cane. However, there was little else besides the man standing right next to her, looking tired and withered, his grey hair too long and falling into his eyes.

“I knew I would be standing here again at some point,” Watson said, and the other two jumped. “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.” Watson gave an unamused laugh. “I think I was hoping I would be gone long before you.”

He shifted from one foot to another, winced, then shifted back again. “See this? My leg’s working up again. Still psychosomatic, I guess. But I’m old, so.” He fell silent again.

“Was Sherlock Holmes younger than Doctor Watson?” Ellie asked.

“I guess,” Katsuki said. He stepped up to the gravestone, and reached out a tentative hand.

“Do you think he died during one of his cases?” he asked, putting his hand on the smooth stone.

Ellie didn’t immediately answer that. She stepped up as well and put her own hand on the stone.

“I think, given his profession, it’s very likely,” she said. “I think it’s surprising he made it that far.”

Behind them, Watson coughed. “I sold the flat,” he said and laughed. “I never expected you to leave everything to me.”

There was silence again. Ellie let her hand fall back to her side.

“London feels so lonely without you.”

Right at that moment, the atmosphere darkened, and the sadness suddenly crashed down on them like a tsunami.

“Sherlock,” Watson said, and Ellie snapped her head around. Her heart began to ache at the simple word. It seemed to carry so much more.

“I still want more.”

He brought up his hand, covering his face, and burst into tears.

Ellie averted her eyes, and made to find the next memento. Katsuki, on the other hand, stepped up next to Watson, and placed an unseeing hand on his shoulder. Ellie saw that Katsuki’s eyes were soft, and something like understanding was written all over his face. He knew loss too well, after all.

Ellie raked her eyes over the small visible place, but couldn’t find anything. She didn’t want to listen to Watson’s grief; she didn’t want to be part of something this personal, but she also couldn’t figure out what to do next.

“It’s okay,” Katsuki said, even though Watson couldn’t hear him. “It’ll be fine.”

Just as suddenly as it started, Watson calmed down and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

“I found this in your room,” he said, pulling something out of his coat pocket and stepped up the gravestone. When he stepped back there was a deerstalker sitting on top of it. They had found their memento.

“If I had known where it was I would have put it in your coffin.” He laughed, more genuine this time. “No, I would have put it on your head.” He laughed again.

With a glance and a nod, Ellie and Katsuki walked over to the hat. “Enabling memento,” Katsuki said.

*

When the flash of colours ceased, Katsuki and Ellie were standing in a flat. This time, they were both amazed at how clear the vision was. It seemed as if they themselves had just stepped into the room. It seemed to be a sitting room, with two chairs placed opposite each other next to a fire place; on the other side of the room, there was an elegant sofa with a smart coffee table in front of it. The table and the desk in between the windows were covered in stuff, from empty mugs to books to what seemed to be case files. And the deerstalker.

Ellie and Katsuki both marvelled at the room, drinking in every detail. “It’s their flat in Baker Street,” Katsuki said, his eyes falling upon Watson. He was sitting in a chair, sipping a cup of tea. Ellie, on the other hand, had spotted the figure on which Watson’s eyes rested.

Ellie had never seen Sherlock Holmes in person, but she instinctively knew that the man illuminated by the lamps behind the windows was no other than the great detective himself. He was dressed in a smart but simple suit, his hands folded behind his back. He was staring at something down in the streets.

No one said anything. Katsuki went and walked around the chair that Watson was sitting in, gazing from him to Holmes.

“I’ve rarely seen something like this,” Ellie said, looking at one of the book shelves. She could even make out most of the titles.

Katsuki perched on the arm of the chair. “This place must’ve been important to him.”

Ellie nodded absentmindedly, and walked over to the window. She stepped up right next to Holmes, trying to figure out what he was looking at. But there was nothing, except for the street lamps that were almost swallowed by the darkness around them.

She turned to look at Holmes. His dark, curly hair was falling into his eyes, his brows were knitted in thought. He looked young. Younger than he should have been at this point.

She turned around to look at Watson. Did they jump too far? No, Watson was definitely older.

In the meantime, Watson had finished his tea and put the empty mug on the small table next to his chair. He folded his hands in his lap and considered the back of Holmes’s head.

“Sherlock,” he said, “You sure you don’t want any tea?”

“Yes,” Holmes said, and they fell silent again. Watson kept watching Holmes, and Holmes continued staring out of the window.

Ellie turned and raised an eyebrow. Katsuki just shrugged.

“Well, I don’t think anything else will happen here,” she said, walking away from the window and scanned the room. “We should find the next memento.”

Katsuki didn’t get up. “That will be difficult. This is all too vivid,” he said and shook his head. “And I don’t think this is everything.”

He nodded over to Watson, who was clearly fighting to find something to say.

“I’m sorry,” Watson blurted out. He immediately clapped his hand to his forehead and winced.

“You said that already,” Holmes said. He didn’t turn around.

“I know. It’s just...” Watson struggled, then heaved a heavy sigh. “Tell me what to do.”

Holmes didn’t say anything.

“What is going on in your brain?”

When Holmes didn’t answer yet again, Watson got impatient. He stood up. “Sherlock, look at me.”

Both Ellie’s and Katsuki’s eyes went wide at this. There was this sort of command in his voice that didn’t accept anything but obedience.

“And here comes the soldier,” Katsuki said and whistled. Ellie had walked over to the other chair and allowed herself to slump into it. This might take longer than she thought it would.

They watched as Holmes slowly turned around. Ellie now saw that he was holding an umbrella. He definitely wasn’t holding it before.

And there was this glow; it was like it was emanating from Holmes, as if he was a beacon in the night.

Holmes raised this eyebrows. His eyes were inscrutable. Suddenly, Ellie felt rather annoyed with the man.

“What are you planning?” Watson said, taking one step towards Holmes. “I know that look. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Holmes said, looking down at the umbrella. Then, he strut across the room and placed the umbrella on the coffee table next to the sofa.

“I’m going to visit Eurus,” he said, walking back to the table perched between the windows and picked up his phone.

Watson was still suspicious, Ellie could feel that, but he seemed to let it slip for some reason and just nodded. “Shall I come with you?”

“No,” Holmes said, not looking up from his phone. Watson nodded again.

They both stood there, not saying anything. Ellie let her gaze wander. Then her eyes fell upon the umbrella.

“That must be the memento,” she said sitting up straight. Katsuki turned and followed her gaze.

Suddenly, Holmes jammed his phone into his pocket and took two long strides across the room to stand in front of Watson, gripping him by the shoulders. Watson looked up in surprise. Ellie and Katsuki froze in their seats, too surprised by the sudden motion to move.

And just as suddenly, as if they were jammed into a jukebox, they both could hear a heartbeat. Loud, and steady.

Watson looked up at Holmes with big eyes. Holmes raked his eyes over his face, and if Ellie wasn’t mistaken, he looked rather sad. Like he wanted to remember every part of Watson’s face as closely as possible.

Holmes opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

“Sherlock?” Watson’s words hung in the air between them, carrying so much more.

Holmes let go of Watson, his arms falling to his sides. “Say hello to Rosie for me,” he said, and sidestepped Watson to walk towards the door.

Watson whipped around. “She’s coming over tomorrow.”

Holmes paused in the doorframe, but he didn’t look back. “I know,” he said, “I have to go through Mycroft’s things tomorrow. I can’t be here, I’m sorry.”

And he vanished, storming down the stairs, leaving Watson standing there. Confusion and hurt was written all over his face.

Then they heard the sound of a voice, a voice suspended in the air, a voice that wasn’t wholly Watson’s or anyone else’s, repeated, over and over again “LIAR”

Ellie and Katsuki sprang up and hurried over to the umbrella.

“Enabling memento!” Katsuki shouted against the torrent of words.

*

They were standing in front of a Christmas tree. It was huge and tall, almost touching the ceiling. Ellie could hardly make out the tip of it. It was richly decorated, she could tell, but as soon as she focused on an ornament, it seemed to vanish. The fairy lights, however, were as clear as day. She spotted the umbrella right next to the Christmas tree, hanging on a hat stand.

“Wow,” Katsuki exclaimed, and they both turned around. What they saw took both their breaths away.

They were standing in a grand dining room, fit for a queen. There were even more fairy lights, and right in the middle was a huge oak table. A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, reflecting the lights of the candles and lights around it a thousand fold. Ellie had to squint to just look at it.

“Where the hell are we?” Katsuki said, his eyes bulging. “Buckingham Palace?”

“Don’t be silly,” Ellie said, starting to walk towards the people gathered at one end of the table. “Do you see the queen anywhere?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Holmes and Mr Watson actually were consulted by the royal family at some point,” Katsuki said and made to follow her.

Ellie couldn’t say she would be either, but she had the distinct feeling that this room seemed grander than it had been in reality.

They approached the small group and found that it was Watson, Holmes, and Rosie sitting there, but also a third man Ellie didn’t recognize. He seemed older than Holmes or Watson; his nose was rather prominent; long and straight, which made him look like a hawk. He seemed to look through everything and everyone. It was rather disconcerting.

Ellie looked between the three men, and somehow there was a similarity between Holmes and this other men. It was subtle, and she didn’t really know what it was. Maybe it just was the general haughtiness that seemed to surround both of them. Maybe she just imagined it.

She stopped right behind Watson’s chair, which was opposite Holmes and the other man, and next to Rosie’s. They were all eating in silence, the only sound the occasional awkward clatter of cutlery against plates.

Then, the man set down his cutlery with a flourish and coughed. “So, Rosie, how is your work going?”

He looked over at Rosie, but she didn’t look up when she answered, “Splendid. But surely you knew that already, Mycroft.”

He didn’t say anything, but gave her a small smile. “Just trying to make conversion. As it is the custom during a family dinner.”

“You’re effort at integrity is remarkable, brother dear,” Holmes scoffed.

“So Holmes had a brother,” Katsuki said. He sounded like he just found out that Santa was actually real.

Ellie quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know why that is so interesting.” Katsuki just grinned and shrugged.

Holmes put down his own cutlery and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “How’s the diet going?” Watson and Rosie grinned, but didn’t look up from their food.

Mycroft’s lips turned into a thin line. “Fine,” he said, curtly.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Holmes said. His eyes met Watson’s and they grinned at each other. Rosie actually laughed out loud at this.

“Mycroft, we’re rubbish at this, and you know it. No need to pretend.” She set down her cutlery and folded her arms in front of her on the table.

“You’re quite right, Rosie,” Holmes said and produced his mobile from somewhere.

“So no small talk then,” Mycroft said, then gave his brother a severe glance. “However, I’d like you to put away your phone until all of us have finished.”

“You sound like Mummy,” Holmes said, just as Watson hastily put down his cutlery and said around a mouth full of chicken, “I am finished.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. Holmes didn’t look away from his phone. Katsuki, who was standing right behind him, started to wave frantically at the phone.

He had found the next memento.

Ellie walked around the table to join him, while from out of nowhere dessert had appeared on the table and the dirty dishes had vanished. Ellie saw from the corner of her eyes that Rosie was helping herself to a generous amount of Christmas pudding.

Holmes was still scrolling through his phone, ignoring everyone else. Ellie stood beside Katsuki, both waiting for Holmes to put the damn thing down. It was always easier to enable the memories without the object in question being in constant motion.

“You know, Sherlock, I do think you should put down your phone for once,” Watson said, heaping some pudding unto his plate. “Even Lestrade doesn’t work on Christmas.”

“Criminals never rest,” Holmes said, but he did lower his phone. Ellie really wanted to smack it out of his hands.

“Pa’s right,” Rosie said around a mouthful of pudding.

Watson gave her a side glance and half-heartedly said, “Don’t call him that.” Rosie just rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

She finished her last piece of cake, set down her fork and stood up. “I’m going to the cemetery,” she announced and walked out of the room.

The three men stood up as well. The pudding had vanished. “Do you have the flowers?” Holmes asked, walking over to the hat stand on which suddenly three coats were hung up.

“Of course I do,” Mycroft said and walked over to Holmes who had just slipped into his coat and snatched the mobile out of his hands.

“This,” he waved it in front of Holmes, “stays.” Mycroft banged the phone on the table.

Katsuki and Ellie threw themselves upon it. “Enabling memento.”

*

They were back at the flat again. The phone was lying on the table right next to a chair Holmes was sitting in, his hands steepled beneath his chin. His eyes were closed.

Ellie looked around. Everything was just as vivid and bright as the last time. Again, Holmes looked so much younger than he should have been. And he glowed. He looked like a Greek god, clad in a silky blue dressing gown.

Watson came into the room from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He slowly walked over to Holmes and put down one of the mugs on the table, then made his way to his own chair, sitting down gingerly. He let out an exhale of content.

“Thank you,” Holmes said, not opening his eyes.

Watson smiled at him, and sipped at his tea. “You’re welcome.”

Ellie looked from Watson to Holmes, and somehow, she had and uneasy feeling. Katsuki had walked over to the bookshelf, looking at the books and knickknacks.

“The vividness really is extraordinary,” he said, reaching out his hand, touching one of the spines. “‘The Tale of Two Cities.’ And here, ‘Hamlet.’ Even I don’t remember where I put all of my books.”

Ellie walked across the room to join him, looking more closely at the bookshelf. “It may be fascinating, but it also makes this much more difficult.” She turned around to Watson and Holmes, the latter still sitting there motionless. He hadn’t touched his tea yet.

“I think we have to witness whatever is going to happen before we can find our memento,” Katsuki said. Ellie gave him a questioning look, but he was looking straight at Watson. “Don’t you feel it?”

Right then, Watson spoke up. “Did she write you?”

He sounded nonchalant, but no one on this room could be fooled. Even if Ellie and Katsuki hadn’t been able to see the annoyance vibrating in the air, it was blatant on his face.

Holmes opened his eyes. He looked puzzled. “Who?”

“You know who I mean.” Watson put down his mug. He didn’t look at Holmes. “The Woman.”

“Oh,” Holmes said, closing his eyes again. “No.”

Watson head snapped up. “You mean she…?” He let the sentence hang in the air. Holmes didn’t say anything.

Watson’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know,” he said eventually. He folded his hands in his lap and gazed thoughtfully at the floor.

“Sherlock, have you ever written back?” He looked up at Holmes, determination setting his lips in a tight line. “Have you ever sent her a text after I told you to?”

Holmes opened his eyes again. He regarded Watson warily, then he said, “No.”

“Sherlock!” Watson exclaimed, wringing his hands desperately. “You can’t be serious!”

Holmes let his hands sink to his lap, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Don’t give me that look!” Watson was furious. He had leaned forward on his chair and raised and accusing finger to point at Holmes. “Do you remember what I told you? Do you?”

“‘Do something while there is a chance because that chance doesn’t last forever.’” Holmes quoted, and Watson deflated. “And ‘Romantic entanglement will fulfil you as a human being.’”

He gazed at Watson, who still had his finger raised, but seemed surprised at being quoted that precisely.

“You still remember that so accurately?” Watson said. “I don’t know why I’m surprised at that, to be honest,” Watson let his hand fall down on his lap, bringing up the other to massage his temples.

“Why didn’t you? You let that chance go. Just like that.” He looked up at Holmes. “Why, Sherlock?”

Holmes looked down at the floor, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Watson sighed. “I just don’t understand. You could have at least tried. I thought I made it clear that a chance like this doesn’t come up that often.”

Then Holmes finally spoke up. “There was no chance to seize, John”

Watson looked up, but Holmes wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I don’t...didn’t need her to fulfil anything.” He looked up at Watson; their eyes met. Holmes gaze was filled with so much more, as if he tried to convey what he actually wanted to say with his eyes alone. His eyes which were the palest blue, the colour of an early morning sky in late spring.

The air was filled with possibility, and hope blossomed in Ellie’s breast; hope that didn’t belong to her but the small figure on the sofa next to her.

Watson held his gaze for a few seconds, then slumped back into his chair. “I really don’t get you sometimes.” The regret that emanated from Watson right then was as blue as the dressing gown Holmes was wearing.

Next to Ellie, Katsuki sighed. “Sherlock Holmes really should have learned to articulate his feelings more accurately.”

“Maybe even he wasn’t sure of Watson’s feelings,” Ellie said. “Emotions are so messy.”

Holmes suddenly stood up, walked around his chair and grabbed a violin from behind it. He turned to face the window, adjusted the violin, and began to play.

It was a sweet, sad sound that seeped right down into their bones, leaving them aching for something, anything; they couldn’t put a finger on.

Watson calmly listened. His expression had changed; Ellie could tell. He no longer looked like he was about to throttle Holmes. Something else replaced it. It was longing.

Ellie could feel her cheeks redden, and she quickly averted her gaze. She caught Katsuki’s eyes, and she could see that he had glimpsed the exact same thing.

He looked at Holmes’s back, who was still playing his woeful melody. “Two intelligent people can be such idiots sometimes,” he sighed, then stepped up to stand next to Holmes. “By the way, I found our next memento.” He pointed at the violin, and Ellie sighed in relief.

Holmes finished his song and gingerly put the violin on the desk beside him. He didn’t turn around, but stared down into the streets below.

Katsuki and Ellie both hastened to reach the violin.

“Enabling memento.”

*

Unsurprisingly, Ellie and Katsuki were standing in the exact same place again. The only difference was that it was rather dark, and the lights were turned on all around the flat. Watson was sitting in his, what Ellie now thought to be, usual chair, skimming through a newspaper.

She and Katsuki had just turned around when they saw Rosie enter the room. She was dressed in the uniform of a police officer.

“Hey dad,” she said, walking over to her father and giving him a peck on the cheek. He smiled at her and put away his newspaper, just as she straightened up and looked around the flat. “Where’s pa – Sherlock?”

“Don’t know,” Watson said, sipping from a cup of tea that he definitely didn’t have a minute ago. “I think he went off to Scotland Yard to pick up some fingers or something.”

Rosie scrunched up her nose, then shrugged out of her jacket and walked over to the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Rosie almost instantly returned with two steaming mugs, handing one to her father before she walked over to Holmes’s chair and plopped down, sighing contentedly. Somehow the first mug had vanished completely.

Katsuki moved over to the desk, scanning the items scattered on it, while Ellie positioned herself behind Rosie and watched the scene play out in front of her. Ellie knew that she and Katsuki would find out more than they were prepared to, but somehow, they both had known it from the start. It was probably what Katsuki had secretly hoped for.

It was what Ellie secretly hoped for every time they had a patient. Just like Sherlock Holmes once said, “Life is infinitely stranger than the mind of man could invent.” This quote only rung true for her when she joined Sigmund Corp. She would never admit to be a nosy person, but she actually was a very nosy person. And the lives of real people were so much more interesting than anything she could read in books or see on the telly.

But she would never admit to that out loud.

Rosie spoke into the content silence. “Say, how’s it going with” but Ellie couldn’t understand the name she said. It sounded like a word in another language, but at the same time, it was complete silence.

“Good,” Watson said, not looking at his daughter. “She broke up.”

Watson took a deep gulp from his mug, avoiding hid daughters gaze. But Rosie didn’t comment. Instead, she silently sipped her tea, pondering over the revelation.

“So Watson was trying to date women after all,” Katsuki said, looking over at Ellie. She looked back at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Katsuki shrugged. “I would have done the same.”

Ellie turned around to look at Rosie. “I bet she wasn’t even surprised at that point.”

“Say, dad,” Rosie spoke up, putting her empty mug on the table next to her. “Why don’t you move back in with Sherlock?”

Watson lowered his mug. “What?”

“You heard me. I think you should move back in with him.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because you are both lonely as heck and I can’t watch my parents grow old and lonely while they could grow old and together.”

Watson made a tutting sound. “You mean grow old together.”

“You know what I mean.”

Watson stared down at his mug, but didn’t say anything. Rosie sighed, stood up, and walked around the chair. She picked up the violin, and plucked the strings with her fingers.

“You two are so stubborn,” she said. “Too stubborn to admit that you are lonely.”

She put down the violin again, and turned around with her hands on her hips to look at her father, giving him a stern look. Her short blond hair was a halo around her head.

“Besides, you are spending all of your time here, anyway. I don’t even go home anymore because I’m more likely to find you here.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So why not move in here and save the money?”

Watson sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Fine. But I have to talk to Sherlock about it.” Rosie grinned at him triumphantly.

“Ah!” Katsuki exclaimed, and Ellie snapped her head around. He was pointing at the jacket Rosie had been wearing, on which the police badge was sparkling.

Katsuki briskly walked over to it. “Enabling memento.”

*

Ellie and Katsuki found themselves in a dim and grey hall, which was filled with people, chattering loudly. It was the first time that Watson remembered something with more people in it. But when they looked around, they couldn’t make out the faces. It was as if the people were more vivid when not looked upon, but when they tried to focus on them, it felt as if they weren’t actually there. As if they had suddenly gone blind.

But there were three people, standing not too far away from them, who were bright and colourful and sharp against the grey background of sameness. Ellie and Katsuki approached, and they saw Rosie, her arms around Watson and Holmes, laughing at something one of the men had said.

„No no, today you have to be nice to me,” she said, looking up at Holmes, who looked decidedly uncomfortable between all those people. Watson, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked more proud. Holmes grumbled something under his breath, and Rosie laughed again.

“I’m really proud of you, Rosie,” Watson said, and she looked up at him, beaming. Right at that moment, she looked a lot younger than she was a minute ago.

“Thanks, dad. I’ll be sure to keep on making you proud from this day on.”

Watson smiled, but looked away, studying one of the banners at the front of the room. Ellie couldn’t make out the words, but she noted that Watson only looked away to hide the tears swelling up in his eyes.

“I still don’t know why you went for this,” Holmes grumbled from beside her. Watson turned around to glare at him, opening his mouth to say something, but Rosie was faster.

“I can’t believe you,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Will you stop ridiculing the police force? I know you think they are all imbeciles and idiots and such, but even you would be darned if we weren’t around.”

Holmes looked decidedly uncomfortable, avoiding Rosie’s glare. She could look frightful when she was angry, Ellie decided.

“It’s just...” Holmes started, and Rosie gave him a challenging look, cocking her head to the side and crossing her arms in front of her. Behind her, Watson chuckled. He had rarely seen Sherlock that uncomfortable, Ellie thought. This thought had shot through her head like an arrow from nowhere. She shivered. She hated it when this happened. Beside her, Katsuki had scrunched up his nose. He must’ve thought it, too.

After a pause, Holmes looked up at Rosie, holding her gaze, before he said, “Be careful.”

At that, Rosie deflated. The challenge fell from her face, leaving a look of mild exasperation. Behind her, Watson sighed.

“Oh pa,” she said, flinging her arms around Holmes. They hugged, and neither heard Watson quietly mutter “Sherlock.” Holmes, who was taller than Rosie, rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. She had buried her face in his chest and muttered something only he could hear.

Seeing that image in front of them, it seemed like time stood still. The air around them changed, and the background noise faded; Watson, and Ellie and Katsuki alike, watched them as if from afar. Ellie felt a tidal wave of emotion crashing over her, a mixture of awe and unconditional love for the two people in front of them. She felt the tears running down her face, and she turned to look at Watson, whose face was impassive. But she knew the emotions bubbling behind that rigid facade were swelling up and up until she feared he couldn’t hold it any longer.

Next to her, Katsuki had his fists clenched, and his face scrunched up in an attempt to not burst into tears like Ellie. She suddenly felt very foolish.

Katsuki had his eyes fixed on Watson. “We’ll find the moment,” he said. “We won’t fail.”

It was then that both Rosie and Holmes let go of each other. They both smiled, and Rosie turned around in search of her father. When she saw the look on his face, her smile faltered and she reached inside of her pocket.

“Oh man, you two are ridiculous,” she sniffed, wiping her hand across her eyes. At that moment, something fell out of her pocket and unto the ground.

It was a keychain, with a small bee dangling from it.

Both Holmes and Watson bent down to reach for it, but Katsuki had been faster. “Enabling memento.”

*

“I think this is the last one.”

Ellie and Katsuki were standing in a flat they hadn’t seen before. They were standing next to the front door, which was wide open. Watson was crouching beside Katsuki. He had just put down a box. The keychain was sitting upon it.

Watson was breathing heavily and wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead. Ellie turned around and looked through the window. She could see a car parked on the pavement, the boot and the doors of the back seats thrown wide open. There were more boxes and other things piled high next to it.

Ellie and Katsuki turned when they heard another voice call from the back of the flat, “No, I’ve got the last one, hang on.”

Holmes appeared with another box. He walked past Watson and darted for the front door. Watson straightened up and looked out the window. He watched as Holmes dumped the box into the boot, shuffling other things around. A girl with long, dark hair came up next to him and they both rummaged around in the car.

“Rosie?” Watson called out, turning around again to look back into the flat.

“Coming!” Rosie appeared, carrying a tote bag. Her hair was longer, tied up into a messy bun at the back of her head.

“Do you have everything?” Watson asked.

“Yes, everything’s in the car now,” she said, then spotted the last box on the floor. “Or not. Let me just...” She moved to grab it, but Watson held up a hand to keep her from doing so.

“No dad, let me do it, you did enough,” she protested, but Watson had already moved in front of her, crouching down to grab the box.

“You live in this flat for another minute, so let me be your dad for that last minute.”

Rosie sighed. Watson straightened up and moved quickly to walk towards the car. Rosie, Ellie and Katsuki followed.

When Watson dumped the last box into the boot, which seemed to contain more than it could actually fit, the dark-haired girl announced that she would quickly use the bathroom before they left, and she bustled back into the house.

Holmes caught Watson’s eyes, and he shuffled back to stand inside the front door, looking down at his feet, his hands folded behind his back.

Watson and Rosie stood by the car. They both looked a bit awkward.

“So, this is it,” Watson said. Rosie nodded. “Have a good journey?”

Rosie looked up, then stepped forward to engulf her father in a tight hug.

“I will always be your daughter,” she said. Even though she whispered it into his ear, Ellie and Katsuki could hear her perfectly.

“Time flies too quickly,” Watson said. They let go of each other, but he held unto her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Rosie laughed. “Yes dad. And even if I don’t, that means you can visit me up north.”

Watson gave her a small smile, then his face became serious again. “Call me when you’re there.” Rosie just hugged him again in response.

At that moment, the other girl came out of the house again and made her way to the driver’s seat. Holmes stepped up to Rosie, and they embraced.

“Take care of dad, will you?” she said when they parted, and Holmes gave her a smile.

“Always.”

Rosie smiled at both of them, then turned and walked over to sit in the passenger’s seat. As soon as the door was closed, the car moved out of the parking lot, turned a corner, and was gone.

They all stood there, staring at the spot where the car had vanished. Holmes, however, had stepped up next to Watson.

“They grow up so fast,” Watson said. Holmes didn’t say anything, but patted his shoulder.

They stood there in silence, and Ellie and Katsuki looked around awkwardly. Was this the end already? Had they missed the memento?

Then, there was the distinct sound of a phone receiving a text. Holmes grabbed his mobile from his pocket and scrolled through it.

“Lestrade wants us at the morgue,” he said, and Watson looked up. “A man has been found drowned in his own bed.”

“Sounds like fun,” Watson said, grinning. Holmes gave him a sidelong glance; it was obvious that he was trying to hide a grin himself.

“Let me guess, you already know what happened,” Watson said, turning to walk back into the flat.

“No,” Holmes said. It didn’t sound convincing. Ellie and Katsuki had to be quick in order to make it back into the flat without Holmes throwing the door into their faces.

“Then why don’t you just text it to Lestrade? I know you don’t go up to the morgue if it isn’t something ‘interesting’,” Watson said. He had turned around to face Holmes, making little air quotes at the last word.

Holmes looked like he had been caught, but tried to hide it with a shrug. “Who knows? Could be interesting.”

Watson gave a heavy sigh and walked over to the couch to slump into it. Holmes remained standing, but watched every step of him.

Ellie realised that this was something that Watson could have never actually remembered; the secret watching. However, she guessed that as a private detective Holmes used to always watch people, taking in every detail, making mental notes and deducing what they had for lunch or what they were up to by how their shoes were laced. It must have been so natural to Holmes that Watson imagined him doing this all the time. But Ellie didn’t believe that this was quite accurate. Maybe this was the face Holmes had when he watched strangers, but Ellie had watched, in every memory they had been so far, that Holmes tended to switch his facial expression completely when Watson looked at him. It was a change as night from day; when Watson wasn’t looking, Holmes’s face became strange, but familiar in a sense that made one feel at home. Then, when Watson actually saw Holmes, it was like he became another man. A man who cared for the person in front of him very deeply.

It made Ellie wonder whether it was wishful thinking on Watson’s side, hoping that Holmes cared more for Watson than for any other person, or whether it was what he actually remembered, but had to fill the gaps with images he knew by heart to make sense of it.

Watson pursed his lips, giving Holmes a look that clearly said, I know you’re hiding something.

Ellie could see how Holmes slightly deflated when he was finally defeated. “I think we’re both in need of a distraction, even if it is a boring one.”

Watson’s face became soft at that. Ellie thought she could actually see waves of devotion emanating of him; it was like watching a rainbow playing across his face.

“Alright,” he said, standing up from the sofa. “Just let me get my coat.”

He walked over to a hat stand, right in the corner which bordered on the area of the kitchen.

“Oh no,” Watson suddenly said, holding up something that was lying on the kitchen counter. “I knew she would forget something,” he said, turning around and waving the object at Holmes.

Ellie couldn’t exactly make out what it was. It seemed like a small package. But what she did know was that they had just spotted their next memento.

“I’ll go and grab a parcel and stamps, be back in a minute,” Watson said and put the package back down on the counter, turning to leave the room. Katsuki and Ellie hurried forward.

“Enabling memento.”

*

“Dad?”

Ellie and Katsuki were standing in the same living room, with Rosie standing right in front of them. She was holding the package. She had opened it and was looking at a CD case. Her brows were furrowed as she was reading the inscription.

“Dad?” she said again, looking up, right through Katsuki. They turned around and saw Watson sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper.

Ellie and Katsuki hurried to stand on either side of Rosie. They may have been invisible to the people in the memories, but it still felt strange to stand in between people while they looked through them.

Rosie held up the CD. The words “Miss you” were written in bold letters across it. As soon as Watson saw it he went ashen. He dropped the newspaper on the coffee table, stood up, and hurried over to Rosie and grabbed for the CD.

“Where did you get this from?” he asked.

Rosie held it out of his reach. Her frown deepened. “I found it lying on the front door when I came back.” she said, taking a few steps backwards when Watson made to take the CD again. “And it is addressed to me.”

Watson let his hand fall to his side. “To you? But how...” He didn’t finish the sentence. Rosie looked at him suspiciously.

“Who is it from?” she asked. “There wasn’t anything else on the envelope.”

Watson didn’t say anything. He began to sway, then let himself sag back into the chair right behind him.

“Is this another blackmail thing? Because if it is, I really am...” Rosie began, but Watson held up his hand, and she went silent.

“No, love,” he said, and Ellie could feel his inner turmoil and struggle to get out the next sentence. “It’s from your mother.”

Rosie’s eyes went wide. They both went silent, starring at each other. It seemed like an eternity before Rosie spoke up, “How…?”

Watson shook his head. Rosie looked at the CD again, then went over to the telly and put it into the DVD player.

“Wait, I’ll leave,” Watson said and started to rise, but it was Rosie’s turn to hold up a hand to stop him.

“Please, stay,” she said, and pushed the play button. Ellie held her breath.

Rosie looked exactly like the woman on the screen. But she noticed that Rosie had her father’s eyes.

The woman was looking sadly into the camera. She seemed to steel herself for what she was about to say. Behind them, Ellie could hear Watson catch his breath. Rosie stared at the screen, her eyes still wide, and her mouth slightly agape.

“My dear Rosie,” the woman began. “Happy birthday.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile. Rosie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, but she didn’t manage to hide the moan.

“I know I am sixteen years late, and I’m sorry for this. Forgive me.” She stopped, looked away from the camera, checking herself. When she looked up, she was smiling again.

“I’ve always known I wouldn’t be allowed to see you grow up. I’ve always known that at some point in your life, too soon for a child, you would be living without your mother. I had hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon, but if this reaches you, you won’t even remember me.

“Please forgive me, Rosie. I know it has only been a short time we had together, but believe me when I say that I still love you with all my heart, and that I am still with you.”

Silent tears were streaming down Rosie’s face.

“The time I had with your father and you was a haven to me. But I was a selfish person. I’ve always known it would end like this, and I still grabbed for everything that your father offered. I hope someday he will forgive me. And I hope Sherlock will forgive me, too.

“I know I’ll sound like a hypocrite know, but hear me out. Rosie, I want you to know that, whatever you do, I will always love you, and I implore you to live your life to the fullest, take every chance you get, and don’t regret anything. Because, even if your father is still mad at me, I don’t regret becoming his wife, and your mother.” She laughed, but there were tears streaming down her face, too.

“And there is also one request I have,” she said, and she looked up at the camera again. “Please take care of your father. He would never admit it, but he is a very lonely person. He never asks for help. Please take care of him, for me.”

She smiled, then she said, “Goodbye, my beautiful daughter.” And with that the screen went black.

Ellie felt the waves of sorrow engulf her. Even if it hadn’t been for that, Ellie would have cried all the same; this time, she didn’t try to hide it. Katsuki put his arm around her, patting her back. They both watched as Rosie broke down, crying uncontrollably. Watson rushed over to her and locked her in a tight hug. She buried her face in his chest, and he began to rock her back and forth. For a moment, it seemed like Rosie was a small child again, and he cradled her to his chest, cooing to her.

Ellie managed to calm herself down. She looked up at Katsuki, and his eyes weren’t exactly dry, either. He wiped his hand over his eyes, embarrassed, and let go of Ellie.

“I wonder how her mother managed to do that?” Ellie wondered aloud, looking back at Watson and Rosie.

“I would like to know how she knew she was about to die,” Katsuki said.

Watson gently tugged Rosie up and they both walked over to sit on the sofa. She immediately grabbed a few tissues from the box sitting on the coffee table and wiped her nose.

It was only then that Katsuki discovered the yellow and black hairband sitting on the table. He reached for it.

“Enabling memento.”

*

Ellie and Katsuki found themselves in exactly the same spot. This time, however, their eyes fell immediately on a much younger Rosie sitting on the sofa, looking very angry. She had her arms crossed, staring down at the floor. She was completely ignoring her father, who was applying a glittery pink band aid to her cheek. He looked even crosser than his daughter.

Rosie’s hair and clothes were a mess, but she was still wearing the yellow and black hairband, as immaculate as in the memory Ellie and Katsuki had just left.

“So, Rosie,” Watson said, and his tone carried a warning. “Why did you slap that boy?”

“I didn’t slap him,” Rosie said, sounding offended. “I punched him in the face.”

Watson gave her a stern look. “Rosamund Mary Watson, you are already in a lot of trouble. Don’t make it worse.”

It seemed impossible, but Rosie looked even more defensive. She turned her head around to avoid her fathers gaze. Watson sighed, and sat down next to her.

“Will you please tell me why you did this? I know you don’t go around doing this for fun. Which doesn’t mean there is any good reason to go around punching people in the face.”

“He deserved it,” Rosie said, still not looking at her father. “He’s mean to everyone. He’s a bully.”

“Was he mean to you?”

Rosie hesitated, then looked back down at the floor. “No.”

“Was he mean to one of your friends?”

Rosie shook her head. Watson gave another sigh. “So you gave this boy a bloody nose because…?”

“Because he is an idiot.”

They didn’t say anything else, just stared at the floor in front of them. Watson seemed to be waiting for Rosie to say something. He glanced from the floor to Rosie, and back again. Her mouth, however, was set in a thin line, determined to stay quiet.

“You’re grounded,” Watson said, standing up and walking over to the kitchen.

Rosie whirled around. “That’s not fair!” she cried.

Watson turned around and gave a disbelieving laugh. “What do you want me to do? Give you a medal for giving a boy a bloody nose? You won’t even tell me why you did it.” His face became a bit softer when he said, “It’s not like you to be like this.”

Rosie deflated, her furry quickly turning into guilt. She looked back at the floor, playing nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“He wasn’t mean to me,” she started, but the rest of the sentence was so quiet that they couldn’t catch it.

“Say that again?” Watson said, stepping closer.

“I said, he said very mean things about you and pa.”

Watson stared at her. Rosie stared at the floor. Then his hand came up to his temples, and he gave another heavy sigh. “It’s Sherlock.”

“No, it’s pa!” Rosie cried, jumping up from the sofa. Ellie jumped back at the sudden outburst. “He doesn’t care that I call him that, so why do you all the time? Why does anyone care anyway?”

She stomped her foot down with an angry cry. Watson seemed to be frozen in place. He was just as put off by her outburst as were Ellie and Katsuki.

“I know he’s not my real dad, but he always acted like one, so stop saying that! I want everyone to just stop saying that!” Tears were no streaming down her face. Watson took two steps towards her.

“Rosie, I don’t think you understand –” he began, but that just tipped Rosie over the edge.

“I don’t think you understand!” she screamed, then stormed past him into her room and smashed the door behind her.

Watson stood there, looking at the door, then down at the floor. In her flight, Rosie had sent a bag, which had rested on the table, flying, and all its contents were spilled on the floor.

“No Rosie, you really don’t understand,” Watson said quietly, then bent down to retrieve one of the books.

Ellie and Katsuki rounded on Watson to look at the contents, and just as they had predicted, they found what they were looking for in the form of an old fashioned magnifying glass.

Katsuki bent down to touch it. “Enabling memento.”

*

“I say,” Rosie said, looking through the magnifying glass, „that you are lying.”

She stood in front of Holmes, who was sitting on the sofa in Watson’s sitting room. He quirked one eyebrow at her.

Rosie was even younger in this memory. She had to hold the magnifier with both her hands. The deerstalker on her head almost slipped over her eyes.

“And what am I lying about?” Holmes enquired.

“Everything!” Rosie exclaimed, throwing the magnifier on the sofa and pointing an accusing finger at him.

Ellie turned around to see Watson standing in the doorway, chuckling to himself. “I think she is unto you, Sherlock,” he said.

Holmes just gave a disbelieving laugh. “I don’t know what you could be unto,” he said. “You still have to learn a lot.”

He patted her awkwardly on the head, and she scowled at him. “I know you are lying! You are not here to see me, pa.”

Ellie heard Watson mumble “It’s Sherlock,” but she was more intrigued to see Holmes look startled. “Of course I am,” he said indignantly.

Rosie gave a very heavy sigh, which wasn’t as effective given how young she was. Ellie giggled.

“Then you are only saying half the truth,” she said, fixing Holmes with a stern glare. “I know you are here to see daddy more than you are here to see me.”

Silence ensued. Holmes just starred at Rosie, who was very good at holding his gaze. She had her chin up and her arms folded defiantly in front of her.

Watson was the one to break the silence. “Well, I’m sure he just loves to see you.” He stepped forward and picked up the magnifying glass. “He surely gets you way too many presents.”

Rosie turned around to her father and snatched the magnifier away from him. “I need to investigate!” she exclaimed and ran out of the room.

Watson chuckled, then sat next to Holmes. “But seriously, Sherlock, stop bringing her presents every time you come over. Especially something like that.”

“But she has potential,” Holmes said, leaning back against the back of the sofa. “It’s important to encourage the young.”

“You are definitely reading way too many books on parenting.”

Holmes glared at Watson, who just laughed at him. “You are right. But I have to say I hope she does not want to become a consulting detective like you. No offense,” Watson said hastily, “but she is my daughter and I kind of want to keep her life safer than mine or yours.” Holmes nodded at that, and they both went silent.

Then Holmes suddenly stood up and walked over to the coat rack and fumbled with his coat. “Rosie forgot this the other day,” he said, walking back over to the sofa, handing Watson a small plush toy. “I thought she might need it.”

As Holmes handed Watson the small object, Ellie saw that it was a tiny bumblebee toy. Watson examined it, then smiled. “Come on Sherlock, I know you didn’t come over just to give Rosie this,” he said, letting the tiny bee fall into his lap.

Ellie knew that Katsuki could probably just activate the memento now, but she felt that it was a bit inappropriate to just grope into Watson’s lap. And besides, at this point she guessed that it didn’t matter anymore how much they saw. And she had a feeling they were getting closer to the ‘perfect moment’. With a sidelong glance at Katsuki she could see that he was just as curious a she was.

Holmes hadn’t sat down again, but instead folded his hands behind his back and looked down at Watson with a somewhat uncomfortable look. Watson gave him an amused look in return.

“You’ve got a new case, don’t you?”

“No,” Holmes said eventually. “I came to see you.”

They both looked at each other. Holmes’s face was set. Watson studied him, and soon enough the smile faded from his face. Something awkward was lying between them. Ellie thought if she had a knife, she might be able to cut the space between Holmes and Watson into tiny, palatable pieces.

“Oh,” Watson said. His eyes fell from Holmes’s face. He was fumbling for words. “Right,” he said, leaning forward. Holmes took a step back and looked at the painting on the wall just behind Watson’s head.

“I was just about to go to the park with Rosie,” Watson said, looking up at Holmes again. “Do you want to join us?”

Holmes just gave Watson a dazzling smile – Ellie was sure that the memory was exaggerating this – and Watson placed the bee on the table and stood up.

And then there was the heartbeat, fast and excited; Ellie wished Watson just had been braver. It would have saved him a lot of heartache. The heartache that she could feel piercing through her own heart like a needle wrenched into the sinews.

“Rosie! Let’s go to the park!” he shouted. He dropped the toy on the sofa and walked over to one of the doors. Katsuki leaned forward and touched one of the bumblebee’s wings.

“Enabling memento.”

*

Ellie and Katsuki found themselves back at Baker Street. This time, they both had the sudden urge to shield their eyes from the bright colours surrounding them. Ellie squinted her eyes at her surroundings; everything looked just like the last time they had been there. It didn’t struck her as strange that not even Watson’s own home seemed to be as vivid as this one. She guessed that, after all, Baker Street had been home to him for all those years after all.

When her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she spotted the tiny bee on the coffee table just between the two chairs. Rosie was sitting on one of the chairs, crammed into something like a high chair so she wouldn’t fall off it. She was gnawing away on her fist, her big green eyes fixed on the person in front of her.

“Your father will be back any minute,” Holmes said, staring back with equally big eyes at the tiny Rosie in front of him. “So don’t be afraid.”

To Ellie, Rosie seemed perfectly fine, looking relaxed and comfortable. Holmes, on the other hand, looked like he was about to freak out. It seemed like Watson left them alone for a while. That, however, raised the question how Watson could remember this if he hadn’t been around at the time. Ellie turned to look around. She spotted him, standing right there in the doorframe, watching Holmes and Rosie from the shadows of the doorframe.

Katsuki had turned around, too, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh,” he said, then looked back at Holmes. “Well, that explains one thing, but somehow it doesn’t explain why Holmes is unaware of Watson’s presence.”

Ellie looked from one man to the other, then shrugged. “How the heck should I know?”

“I didn’t really ask you, you know,” Katsuki said.

Holmes suddenly turned around and grabbed the little plush toy sitting on the table. “Look what I got for you,” he said, bobbing the bee in front of Rosie’s eyes. She followed the movement, her tiny fist slowly falling from her mouth.

Holmes swished the bee from one side to the other, and Rosie’s gaze followed it. Holmes repeated this, but added a buzzing sound fitting the movement. The corners of Rosie’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly, and Holmes seemed to relax somewhat. He repeated the game a few times, with Rosie smiling faintly and gazing all the while at the little plush toy.

Ellie couldn’t help it, this scene was utterly charming. She was sure it was her who felt that way, even though she could sense that Watson remembered this with the same warmth she herself felt in her heart.

“This is too cute,” Katsuki said, laughing, putting his hands over his eyes. Ellie put a hand on his shoulder and laughed along.

Holmes seemed to get bolder, and he touched the little bee’s nose to Rosie’s nose, making a louder buzzing noise with the touch. At the touch Rosie actually laughed out loud, her little arms and feet thrashing excitedly. Holmes’s face burst into a smile as well, and he repeated the action. Rosie got more and more excited, and with each playful touch Holmes’s smile became broader and his face brighter. Rosie began to grab for the bee with her tiny hands, and after another few playful swishes, Holmes let her grab the toy. She gurgled happily and began to chew on one of the bee’s wings, her big eyes smiling up at Holmes.

Holmes kept smiling brightly at Rosie, and suddenly, Ellie and Katsuki were hit by a wave of affection so strong, Ellie felt like crying from its sheer bitter sweetness. Katsuki actually swayed on his feet, and they both turned around to see Watson standing there, paper bag in one hand, fighting away the tears in his eyes.

“He loves them so much,” Katsuki whispered.

Ellie grabbed his hand. “Oh yes, he does.”

They stood there for a moment, watching this scene in front of them. They knew they needed to get going and find the next memento, but they didn’t seem to be able to move just yet.

At last, Ellie let go of Katsuki’s hand and turned towards one of the bookshelves. “So, have you seen anything yet?” she asked, testing one of the spines with her finger. Katsuki turned towards the window, his eyes scanning the walls there.

They both walked around the room, searching frantically. In the meantime, the memory seemed to repeat itself over and over again, and Ellie soon felt sick of the renewed waves of tenderness. It wasn’t that she minded; but they had been on this for a while now and the emotional rollercoaster drained her.

She came to stand in front of Watson, who looked like one of the wax figures in Madam Tussaud’s. She shuddered. She never really liked those. She sensed that the memory was getting to its close, and it occurred to her to follow Watson’s gaze. When she turned, she saw that he was looking straight at the vacated chair behind Holmes. His eyes had only flickered to it for a moment, but she had seen the quick passing of terror behind his eyes. Her brows furrowed in confusion. He didn’t seem to exude terror; the affection was still sapping strongly at their feet. What was he trying to suppress?

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Katsuki said from the other side of the room. He was prodding the antlers of the skull placed between the windows. “Tell me you’ve found something.”

“It’s the chair,” Ellie said, pointing at it.

Katsuki let his arm fall to his side and gave her an angry look. “Oh why thank you for telling me right away,” he said. He briskly walked over to the chair.

“Enabling memento.”

*

The bright colours twisted and turned; they were turned on their heads, and the room became dark. Again, Ellie and Katsuki were at Baker Street. They didn’t know how they knew this. It was hardly the place they had just left. Everything was destroyed.

The chair they had just touched was lying at their feet, somehow the only piece of furniture that was unscathed. The floor felt like an ocean of gravel and pages of books scattered everywhere. The centre of the room was blackened, the sofa on the other side of the room was heavily singed. Torn books, pieces of furniture and other things were scattered all around the room. Everything felt bigger, vaster, and lonelier.

Ellie spotted Watson and Holmes standing in the doorway, gazing at the mess in front of them. Slowly, they made their way into the room, climbing over various objects. Watson made his way over to the bookshelf, bending down to take one of the books. He wiped at the cover, then set it down on the mantelpiece, stooping to grab another.

Holmes, on the other hand, made his way over to the window, looking sadly at the remnants of a blown up box. It must have contained case files, Ellie thought.

Watson had retrieved several more books but had apparently realized that this was a pointless task, as he turned to look at Holmes. He walked over to him when Holmes bent down to pick up the animal skull. Watson had spotted a pair of headphones lying on the floor just under Ellie’s feet, and she jumped aside as he grabbed them. She knew this was a completely pointless move, but she simply couldn’t help it, no matter how many times she stood in someone’s memories unseen.

Watson placed the headphones on the skull, and he exchanged a sad look with Holmes. Holmes put the skull on the table. Watson went over to his chair, which lay on its side, his fingers brushing the other chair on his way there.

Ellie wasn’t all too sure what had happened here, but seeing the destruction and the blackened carpet, she guessed there had been an explosion. It didn’t strike her as farfetched; Watson and Holmes had lived dangerous lives. She was just surprised that the flat wasn’t sporting a gaping whole. She was also unsure how everything seemed to be destroyed to the point that it couldn’t be salvaged, but the chairs seemed unscathed.

Watson had picked up the chair and put it right, leaned on the arm and sighed. He turned and let himself fall into the chair. All the while Holmes had eyed the case files with another sad look, but turned around when he heard Watson sigh. He walked over to the other chair and sat down. He looked tired; he slumped down in his chair, head falling back, his eyes closed.

“I think this is going to take a while to clean up,” Watson said. His words struck as if he had just shattered an invisible glass wall. Holmes didn’t say anything.

It was at this point that Watson suddenly sat up straighter. His gaze was on Holmes, eyes intense.

“Sherlock,” he said.

Holmes’s head snapped up. There had been a strange, unfamiliar note to Watson’s voice. Holmes quirked an eyebrow at him in question.

“Sherlock,” Watson said again, and he slid forward slightly on his chair.

“Yes?” Holmes said, and his eyes filled with concern.

For a moment, it seemed like the rest of the world fell away, leaving emptiness at their feet. The only thing illuminating the darkness was Holmes. He was like a beacon in the sea of this ever growing emptiness.

Holmes was still looking at Watson questioningly, but Watson didn’t say anything. He was unable to say anything.

Ellie and Katsuki saw his inner torment. They felt it. They felt the terror of nearly losing him. They felt the relief of being alive. They felt the horror of mortality. They felt his insecurity. They felt the love. The boundless love that tried to reach out for Holmes.

Just as suddenly, the room was back in place, and Watson was clearing his throat. He looked away.

“I’ll just go see how Mrs Hudson is doing,” he said hurriedly and stood up.

Holmes’s face was scrunched up in confusion, but there was something else. Ellie wanted to believe that it was disappointment.

“That’s it!” Ellie exclaimed, turning around to look at Katsuki. His eyes were bright in a way that told her that he had seen it, too.

The perfect moment.

*

They had found the memory. Ellie was sure of it. For the time being, Katsuki had disconnected them from Watson’s memories. Ellie was blinking against the lights. It was dark outside, but it had been like this already when they drove over to the house; it was difficult to say how long they had been here. She could turn around and ask Rosie about it, but she and Katsuki had long ago agreed that they shouldn’t talk to any relatives before their job was done. They had cases were they had been held up with too many questions for so long they had almost lost the patient without initiating their wish.

Most of the time, the loved ones want to know how everything was going. Some even want to know details. Others want to talk them out of doing their job. Others again think that if they hold up Ellie and Katsuki for a bit longer, their beloved will stay with them for a bit longer. It is a lie that is commonly believed.

That was why Ellie kept staring at the wall in front of her. She could see Katsuki tapping away on his laptop out of the corner of her eyes. The room was completely silent apart from the tapping. She wondered whether Rosie had fallen asleep in her chair.

“Is he still doing okay?”

Ellie only barely managed not to jump out of her chair when she heard Rosie speak up. Her voice was low, as if she was afraid to shatter the silence around her.

“So far, he’s doing great,” Doctor Swift said. “Don’t worry.”

Rosie huffed a laugh. “That’s easier said than done. I mean, I know he’ll keep going until this is done, but I also know that he’ll eventually die, so.”

“Oh Rosie,” the other woman said, and Ellie could hear Rosie sob.

“I’ve been preparing for this for months, and now I’m here and I really don’t want him to go.” Rosie’s voice was muffled.

“I know,” Doctor Swift said, her voice soothing. “Trust me, no one is ever prepared for death. But that’s okay.”

For a while, Ellie only heard Rosie’s sobs, and she desperately hoped that Katsuki would get a move on.

“I just hope those two can give him his last wish,” Rosie said.

“Initiating desire,” Katsuki said in a low voice, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “Loading memory.”

They had to go back one last time. They had to make sure everything was going fine. Keep the desire in check.

Ellie felt the pull of the memories. She closed her eyes, the colours bursting behind them, swirling and shifting, until she was swept back into Watson’s memories. This time, though, it felt like she watched a movie played in her head, fast forwarded and only slowed down at certain points.

She took a deep breath and let herself be sucked into it…

*

John and Sherlock were sitting in their chairs in the middle of the destroyed flat at 221b Baker Street. The grey colours swirled around them, blurring the rubble with the torn books and blackened furniture. John was staring intently at Sherlock, who had his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

Sherlock was the brightest thing in the entire world; he was the most important person in John’s life. And he had nearly lost him.

“Sherlock,” he said, sitting up straighter. He had made up his mind. Nothing was more important than this. Nothing would be worth anything if he didn’t say it right now.

Sherlock looked straight into John’s eyes. One of his eyebrows was quirked up in question. John held his gaze; he didn’t waver in his resolve.

“I love you,” he said.

Sherlock’s face fell. His eyes went wide in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. “John?” he said, his voice barely a breath.

“You heard me right,” John said. He slid down on his knees, right in front of Sherlock, and rested his hands on either side of him. Sherlock stared down at him, lost for words.

“Do you remember when I told you that you should take any chance you get at romantic entanglement? That your chance doesn’t last forever? That it’ll be gone before you know it?”

Sherlock didn’t say anything but kept staring, so John pressed on. “I think I was talking about me that night. Not about you. And that is awful, Sherlock, I know. I am an awful person. I preach but don’t act myself, I’m such a hypocrite. Always been one. But trust me when I say that I’ve always loved you, one way or another.”

John was breathing hard, his heart hammering in his ears, the beat thrumming through the whole room.

He held Sherlock’s gaze when he said, “And you can call me an idiot, but I think this is not a one-way thing.”

Sherlock sucked in a breath and said, “You are not and idiot, John.”

It was like the air compressed in this small frame of time was suddenly released, and John gaped up at Sherlock.

“Sherlock...” John began, but Sherlock had leaned closer, his face only inches away from John. Sherlock’s eyes were intense, boring into John’s, taking in every movement, every motion, every breath he took.

“Always,” he said.

It was all the encouragement that John had needed. He raised his shaking hands to rest on Sherlock’s face, gently pulling him down. Sherlock’s hands came up to rest over John’s, trying to sooth the shaking, and he met him halfway.

It was unity. It was completion. It was glorious.

The sudden explosion of colours and brightness didn’t seem to bother them; their kiss had started tentative, but soon turned desperate. They clung to each other as if they feared they might fall into the abyss beneath them if they didn’t. But their spot kept being whole, their world changed and shifted, and they were where they should be.

Together at 221b Baker Street.

The colours shifted, the flat around them bend and twisted into the flat they knew, illuminated by their halo.

Sherlock stood there, holding baby Rosie, saying something that only the two of them understood. John strode into the room, carrying bags of shopping which he dumped on the table before he stalked over to Sherlock and Rosie, exchanging kisses with both of them.

They turned and sat on the sofa, the yellow smiley shining down on them like the sun. Rosie ran around the room, pointing her magnifying glass at everything that might be interesting.

“A clue!” she exclaimed, picking up a piece of paper that had fallen behind the table. “Dad! Pa! Look at this!” She held out the paper and ran across the room to hand it to her laughing father.

“I think your pa can tell you more about this,” he said, handing it over to a smiling Sherlock.

The world shifted again, and Rosie sat in one of the chairs and watched her mother’s last message with tears in her eyes. John and Sherlock were both standing behind her. John had a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Hear me out. Rosie, I want you to know that, whatever you do, I will always love you, and I implore you to live your life to the fullest, take every chance you get, and don’t regret anything. Because even if your father is still mad at me, I don’t regret becoming his wife, and your mother.

“And there is also one request that I have,” Mary said, and a mischievous smile spread across her face. “Tell your father that I’ve always know he would end up at Baker Street. And please, take good care of him, and Sherlock.”

Behind them, they could hear clatter on the stairs; Sherlock and John were carrying down boxes, with Rosie following close behind, ticking of a mental list.

“Right, I have everything,” she said, and Sherlock and John stopped and turned to look at her. She put her hands on her hips and gave them a stern look. “Please try not to destroy the kitchen while I’m away, pa,” she said to Sherlock. He just rolled his eyes at her and kept descending the stairs.

“And you, dad,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from following Sherlock. “Please take care.”

“That’s my text,” he said, smiling ruefully at her.

They descended the stairs, and just as they disappeared behind the bend, there was shouting and clapping from all around, and there was Rosie, embracing both Sherlock and John, with the biggest smile painted across her face. She was wearing her brand new police uniform, the badge glinting in the late summer sun. Sherlock made a derisive remark about the police force in general, but he couldn’t fool neither John nor Rosie that he couldn’t be prouder of her at that moment.

Just as they turned to walk into the sunlight, the light blinding out everything for a moment, John and Sherlock were back at Backer Street, sitting in their respective chairs, drinking tea. John was skimming the newspapers.

“‘Scotland Yard finds diamond.’,” he read. “So you let Lestrade get away with it again.”

“Oh it was nothing,” Sherlock said, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It was so obvious. Honestly, I don’t know how they manage anything these days. Rosie really should be thinking about accepting the promotion.”

John put away his newspaper. “She will make the right decision.” He grinned widely at Sherlock. “I didn’t think you’d actually encourage her to become a detective. I thought they were all idiots up there.”

“Well,” Sherlock said, fidgeting in his chair. “If she joined them there might be some actual change up there.”

“And you would be out of a job.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “Maybe.” He folded his hands under his chin and looked at John from under his lashes. “And it would leave me more time with you, wouldn’t it?”

John tried to hide his smile in his mug.

In the blink of an eye, all three were sitting in the living room, sipping on glasses of red wine.

“I tell you, Uncle Mycroft, family gatherings are customary at least once a year, and why not do them at Christmas?” Rosie said, taking a deep gulp from her glass. Mycroft’s face contorted when she said ‘uncle.’

“Didn’t know you were finally calling him ‘uncle,’” John said, chuckling. He felt lightheaded from all the wine he had consumed to get over this.

“Only to rile him up,” Rosie said, and she exchanged an amused glance with Sherlock. As Mycroft turned around to argue about something with John, they secretly toasted and drank to their health.

Everything became dark. Sherlock was lying on the ground, his head resting on John’s lap. They were surrounded by a pool of blood protruding from a wound in Sherlock’s chest.

John’s face was wet. Tears were streaming down his face, splashing unto Sherlock’s hair. He was pushing his hands into the wound, trying to stifle the bleeding, but they both knew that it was no use.

“John, I’m sorry,” Sherlock said, his voice broken. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shush, Sherlock, don’t talk,” John said, adding more pressure. “Everything will be just fine.”

“Yes it will,” Sherlock said. It took him a tremendous amount of energy, but he raised his hand and placed it on John’s face, making him look at him.

“It will be fine, John.” He stroked his thumb over John’s cheek, wiping the tears away. John stared down at him, but the tears didn’t stop.

“Thank you for everything,” Sherlock said, his arm becoming heavier and heavier. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” John said, and he bend down to kiss Sherlock one last time.

The wind in the trees was the sad song of a lover lost. John listened to it, taking a deep breath. He leaned on his walking stick, looking down at the gravestone of Sherlock Holmes. He pulled out the deerstalker from his jacket pocket and placed it on top of it, smiling ruefully at it.

“We both always knew how this would end,” he said and placed a hand on the black stone.

“Wherever you are, please wait for me,” he said, and turned to leave.

He walked, slowly but steadily. He knew what was about to happen. He knew that his time had come. But he had a last message for his daughter.

“Rosie,” he said, lying in this glaringly white room, connected to various tubes that led to nowhere. Rosie sat next to him, holding his hand. She was sitting in Sherlock’s chair, right next to his bed. She looked so much younger. She was crying. She knew that this was the last time they had a chance to talk. The last time she would see him.

“Rosie, I loved your mother,” he said. “But I also loved Sherlock. Please don’t hate me for that.”

“I know that, dad,” she said, sliding forward in her chair and extending her other hand to place it on his cheek. “I know that.”

“Good,” John breathed. He had trouble staying awake. But he had to fight. He needed to say this.

“Rosie, please promise me something. Life is too short to regret anything. No chance lasts forever. Promise me to take every chance you get, before it’s gone. Can you do that for me?”

Rosie was barely able to talk around her sobs. “Yes, dad, I promise.”

John gave a relieved sigh. “I love you, Rosie.”

“I love you, too, dad,” she said, and bend down to kiss his brow.

He smiled up at her, his vision becoming more and more blurred.

And with his next long exhale, everything went black.

*

Ellie stood on the porch, taking a long drag from a cigarette. She looked out at the forest just behind the gardens. The sun was rising; the tips of the trees were tinged with orange. The air was still cold from the night before, but the promise of a warm summer’s day was whispered through the trees bobbing softly in the wind.

Ellie had always wondered how easy it was for the world to go on as usual when someone died. Dying was natural. Everyone had to die one day. It was how the world was made. And still it struck her as something so strange, so otherworldly, that every time she saw it happen, she thought the world had to stop breathing as well.

When Watson took his last breath, Rosie hadn’t cried. Her eyes were red, but she had no tears left. Doctor Swift had removed the operational helmet and covered his face, then led Rosie out of the room. Ellie and Katsuki had silently stowed away their equipment. Katsuki had offered to settle everything with Rosie. Ellie had to wait until the paperwork was done before they could leave.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ellie turned around to see Rosie standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. It would hardly keep away the cold, Ellie thought. The cold that death left in your heart.

Ellie hastily put out the stump of her cigarette and stuffed it into her coat pocket. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

Rosie gave a rueful smile, then stepped up to stand next to her. “I never really watched the sun rise before,” she said.

“I did too often,” Ellie said. Rosie actually laughed at that.

They stood there in silence, watching the sky turn brighter, the first rays of sun crawling over the treetops and hitting their faces.

“Doctor Ono went to bring everything back to the car,” Rosie said. Ellie knew that it wasn’t what she actually wanted to say.

“He got his wish,” Ellie said, looking down at her feet. “He confessed to Mister Holmes.”

From the periphery of her vision, Ellie saw Rosie look thoughtful. “Good.”

There was more silence. Ellie wasn’t quite sure what she should do.

“I’ve always known that they loved each other,” Rosie said, not looking away from the sunrise in front of her.

“He loved your mother, too,” Ellie said. Rosie turned around to look at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s the last thing he said. That he loved your mother. And Sherlock Holmes. And that he doesn’t want you to hate him for that.”

Rosie’s face crumbled. She looked like she was about to cry again.

“I would never hate him for that. I never hated him for that.” She looked up at Ellie, her eyes imploring. “Did he know that?”

“I think he did,” Ellie said. Rosie visibly relaxed.

Ellie stepped up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “He loved you very much,” she said. Rosie gave her a small smile, her big green eyes shining with fresh tears.

Ellie coughed slightly, then took a step back and let her hand fall to her side. “I think I should see what my colleague is up to,” she said awkwardly and turned to leave.

“Thank you, Doctor Fletcher.”

Ellie smiled. She didn’t look back.

*

“Next time you decide to have a fag, just try and help me load all that junk into our car before you have it,” Katsuki said when Ellie slammed the car door shut behind her.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Out of all the slang words you could use you choose that one,” she said, giving him a stern look. “Out of all the people I know you are the only one who uses it. You, out of all people!”

Katsuki scoffed. “It’s just a word. Besides, I think it was used for cigarettes before it was a slur for gay people.”

Ellie gave a heavy sigh, then rummaged through her pockets, producing a packet of cigarettes. She held it out for Katsuki. “Just take one,” she said, and he obeyed.

“Might as well,” he said and lit it. He puffed a few times. They sat in the car in silence, staring out of the window.

“You know, every time, afterwards, I think ‘You are just wasting your time,’” Katsuki said.

Ellie didn’t look up at him. “We will regret our lives no matter what we do, at the end of it. That’s just how it is. That’s why Sigmund Corp is so big. Because no one lives their life to the fullest. It’s impossible.”

“I know,” Katsuki said, puffing out smoke. They hadn’t bothered to let down the windows. It was getting increasingly foggier. “But most of the time, people regret not fulfilling stupid dreams, like becoming an actor or something. But this,” he made a wide gesture with his hand, indicating the whole case they had just been on. “This is big, Ellie. Watson lived his life without the guts to tell his best friend that he loved him. And you know what’s the most pathetic thing about this? He will never know whether Holmes actually felt the same way.”

Ellie turned to look at him. “I think he did,” she said, slowly. “I think they both knew and never talked about it.”

They both sat motionless. Katsuki’s cigarette had burned down completely. He only looked away when it burned down to his fingers. He cursed, and stuffed the remains into the ashtray.

“We should go, I’m knackered,” he said, fastening his seatbelt. Ellie fastened hers, too, but didn’t start the car. Instead, they both stared out at the road in front of them. The sun was up now, illuminating the path in front of them. Right now, the possibilities seemed endless.

“I’m gonna ask Linda out for dinner,” Ellie said.

Katsuki laughed out loud. Ellie’s ears turned pink, and she rolled her eyes as she started the car. “I bet you ten pounds you don’t,” he said, letting down the window.

“You’re on.”