I'm Still Just Human

Mycroft Will Have Me Knighted

The construction man calls

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. There's a man here asking if the tribute stuff can be relocated.... Yes, sir... Dr. Watson according to his name tag... Of course sir... To Baker Street. Right away sir." He hangs up.

"He said a crew will take it all to 221B Baker Street." The wording gives him pause, and he asks,

"By any chance... Is your boss a Mycroft Holmes?"

"Umm Yeah." John just allows himself a small knowing smile and gives the man a nod, finishing his walk to the flat. The men begin to move it. Once it's all at Baker Street it really is easy to see just how much stuff there is. It just makes John smile, and he arranges for Sherlock to be allowed to come home for a few hours one day, just so he can see how many people he saved. Sherlock allows himself to be wheeled in and sees it all his eyes go wide.

"I'm no hero..."

"But you are. To these people, to the queen, to me. You're all of our hero's." He looks at his legs.

"How many John?"

"Four hundred and two, with the Queen's associates added in."

"Two legs for four hundred lives?" He's realizing in all honestly, how little he lost in his moment.

"I wasn't even trying to save them... Just you..."

"I know. But you did. They want to thank you. There have been letters upon letters directed here through Mycroft, asking after your well being. There's been calls and texts and emails asking when you'll be better. It's amazing, really. Sherlock just stops, looking at the stuff. His eyes sway from side to side, looking at the flowers, food, blankets, craft, all of it. Given to him because he wanted to save his John, and John waits quietly for his reaction.

"Do you think the queen would let me talk?"

"Yes, and your brother insists you be knighted." Sherlock groans, but the queen herself does invite him, to be knighted, as well as give a small public address. She says with pride, looking at him.

"Sir William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Then clips the mic to him. Though he's irritable about the knighting, something Mycroft had been threatening him with for years, he accepts it, just for the speech. He looks out to the crowd.

"I know what I did was noble. But I don't think of you as a massive number. I know that each of you... all of you still alive as the result of me, each of you are a special life capable of remarkable things. I look forward to seeing how the world will advance because of the amazing people among the survivors." Mycroft, John, and Greg exchanged looks among themselves. No harsh words, no biting insults, and he's complimenting the human race? Something is odd here, even for him. Even since the accident, he's been himself, making this even more odd. Sherlock looks out once more after pausing for a breath.

"In my own moment of crisis, I realized that life is fragile. Minds are fragile things. But when try, they are capable of so much. Like the bomber. Alone his bomb simply took out the bar... If all of them had gone off that entire street would have gone up in smoke. I used to think normal humans were dull, stupid even, but I learned the one thing that everyone has in them, is love. That's what saved the street. One man's love, for another person. It's the one thing all us little humans have in common, so don't put be above you. Because in reality, genius or an infant child, we're all just human. Thank you.

He unclips the mic offering it back to the queen with a small smile. She takes it, shocked herself. She's had her own encounters with this brilliant, confident, yet cruel man. She spots a small scar on his temple though, and in that second, all his close friends as well as her, realize just how dangerously close England was to losing him. Just how close the seemingly indestructable Sherlock Holmes was too being dead, how close they all were to losing such a national icon. She just nods to Mycroft, a barely there gesture, and shoos him to his family, one of her personal guards helping him down the ramp. They clap for him furiously, he simply waves and a small boy with a blue scarf comes up, his little arm covered in scars from broken glass.

"Thank you, Mr. Sherlock. Thanks to you, I can still throw a ball, and one day I'm gonna be a famous rugby player!"

He grins, giving Sherlock a bag of cookie's as they roll to the car, he's still showered with love, his mind goes in shock at how much his life has changed, Mycroft whispers,

"I think bravery is by far the noblest word, for love."

The End.