Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

One More Miracle

CHAPTER FORTY NINE: ONE MORE MIRACLE

A/n: It's official! This is the final proper chapter of Brilliant! I can't believe we've gotten this far, it's unbelievable. The next chapter is Brilliant's epilogue; which just ties Brilliant to Valiant. So because this is the last chapter, it isn't that long but there's lots of Sherlia feels.

Amelia looked like a white dove in a sea of crows. She was dressed in a short white, chiffon dress that covered one shoulder. A thin black ribbon was tied around her waist, slimming Amelia’s figure and a thin black veil covered the front of her face, a tribute to the wedding she’d never have. She stood out from the crowd of people dressed in black, and if she had a pair of pure white wings, she would look like the angel Moriarty had so often compared her too.

Moriarty... He hadn’t earned a proper funeral; he’d been buried with all the other criminals. Upon Amelia’s insistent begging, Moriarty had at least earned his name inscribed on a stone rather than a nameless grave Mycroft had originally intended for the consulting criminal.

Amelia watched as Sherlock’s coffin was lowered into his grave, clutching onto Mycroft’s arm even tighter. He winced ever so slightly but made no comment, allowing Amelia one moment to grieve for her fiancé. Her tears had dried up days ago, but despite that, she still made sure to wear extra strength, waterproof mascara.

A dry sob caught in Amelia’s throat as the gravedigger stepped into Sherlock grave and started to cover it with dirt. She didn’t blink once until the grave had been completely filled with dirt, then she wrapped her arms around her shoulder, watching silently as people paid their respects.

“I’m so sorry for you loss,” said Molly, coming up to her.

Amelia nodded once as other people filed up to her, all repeating Molly’s words to a varying degree. Amelia and Mycroft stayed there until all the others had gone, Mycroft reassuring his parents that he and Amelia would cope.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Amelia said hollowly, walking over to Sherlock’s headstone and placing a hand on it. “After all we’ve been through, you know?” She looked to Mycroft, “I don’t really think you hated him; not in the end. You were closer than that.”

Mycroft remained silent.

She turned around to face Mycroft, perching on the edge of Sherlock’s headstone, “You two always acted like you hated each other, but I could see past it. You loved him. You still do. He meant more to you than you let on.”

“And he didn’t to you?” Mycroft asked, arching his eyebrow.

“You know that he did.” Amelia said quietly.

~Ella’s office, a few hours later~

John sat in a chair across from Ella, his therapist, watching as rain rolled down the window beside him, thunder rumbling loudly. “Why today?” Ella questioned.

“D’you want to hear me say it?” John said quizzically, frowning.

“Eighteen months since our last appointment.” Ella informed John gently, flipping through her files.

“D’you read the papers?” John said in a quiet anger.

“Sometimes.”

“Mm, and you watch telly? You know why I’m here. I’m here because…” His voice cracked painfully, unable to continue. He could now see why Amelia had refused to go see Ella with him. His death—John was trying not to say His name—had affected her more than anyone else. John swallowed, looking down as he fought the urge to break into tears.