Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

The Reichenbach Fall

A/N: Oh. My. God. It's finally here. I can't believe only ten or so chapters until this is finished. I think most of the Reichenbach Fall will be up soon as I've already made edited the transcripts from ArianeDeVere (thank you so much. This wouldn't have been possible without you) to suit Brilliant. I'd like to make shoutout to grayxpression (who's writing is absolutely amazing) and gemmcross (for all her support). And now...onto the tears...

CHAPTER THIRTY: THE REICHENBACH FALL

Amelia let out a cry of anguish, knocking one of Sherlock’s many beakers off the table where it shattered on the floor, the iodine staining the tiles. She ran a hand through her hair, her chest tightening. She collapsed into John’s seat as tears began to stream down her cheeks, her eyes locked on Sherlock’s empty seat. The air still lingered with the smell of cigarette smoke and the faint scent of Sherlock’s soap, only causing Amelia to sob even more.

She glared at the seat as she said, “You heartless bastard.” The lie caused a twinge of pain to shoot through her heart as she pulled her knees into her chest, crying silently. “I know what you think was right, and maybe it was, but you could’ve told me.” She whispered, continuing on although there was no one to hear her. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, you know. Sentiment and all that. But you and I were never good at that, were we?” She laughed humourlessly, her eyes flicking down to the carpet. “John tried me to go see Ella with him. I hit him with a book.”

She could almost imagine Sherlock chuckling and replying with a witty retort. Amelia looked at the back of her left hand where the engagement ring nestled snugly around her ring finger. “We can’t even have a wedding because...” She choked, unable to continue. Amelia took in a deep breath, her entire body shuddering with the effort. “Because you’re dead. The great Sherlock Holmes is dead.”

~Three months earlier~

“A small token of our gratitude.” The director said, handing Sherlock a small gift wrapped box. Sherlock took it, frowning. Sherlock glanced at Amelia who was barely containing her laughter.

“You know,” She whispered, standing on her toes to say it in his ear, “other than the half a million pounds they already gave you.”

John whacked his sister, silently warning her to behave.

“Diamond cufflinks,” Sherlock said simply, looking at the box and rustling it slightly. “All my cuffs have buttons.”

“He means thank you,” John reassured to the director.

“No, he doesn’t,” Amelia muttered.

“Ames,” John said dangerously.

“Do I?” Sherlock said quizzically, looking to John for an answer.

“Just say it.” John sighed tiredly, shooting Amelia a glare as she flicked his shoulder. Some days he didn’t know why he had invited his sister to live with them in the first place, not that Sherlock was against it. Amelia and Sherlock had grown rather close the past year, speaking in hushed tones when John was around as if they were keeping a secret from him.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said insincerely, lacing his fingers through Amelia's and starting to walk away. John caught them both, forcing them to smile for the photographers as the cameras flashed, taken dozens of photos of the trio.

~~~

“Back together with my family,” A man whose name Amelia had long forgotten said, “after my terrifying ordeal; and we have two people to thank for my deliverance—Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Watson.”