A/N: I've left a mammoth one of these at the bottom of this chapter so I'll keep this short and sweet. A HUGE thank you to everyone who's ever read/reviewed/followed this story. It means the world to know people enjoy your craziness, believe me and so I dedicate this final bonus chapter to all of you, I call it 'Doctor Watson's Sing Along Blog- Encore'. Enjoy!

Doctor Watson's Sing Along Blog- Encore

John didn't go to Sherlock's funeral for two reasons the first being that he simply didn't have the time anymore, working for Moriarty was a full time occupation and now Moriarty knew he could kill? He was practically indispensible to him. He'd heard several other people in the web saying that if he kept things up at this rate he'd probably end up being Moriarty's right hand man by the end of the year... but none of it seemed to excite him in the way he'd thought it would. Which links back to the second reason he didn't go, he couldn't bear any kind of reminder of Sherlock, not now that he'd lost the man, not when all he could remember was that shinning brilliance leaving the man's eyes forever... it was unbearable. Which was why he'd vowed to himself the moment he'd joined the criminal web that he wouldn't feel a thing... after all, caring was not an advantage in a lifestyle such as his. Sherlock had well and truly proven that.

...But he couldn't get past those feelings. The ones of guilt, of self-hatred, of heartache... which was why, after a month of frustrated looks and impatient sighs Moriarty had actually ordered him to go and visit Sherlock's grave because 'all this mourning is depressing Johnny boy and depressing is dull'. So here he stood in front of the grave he'd never want to face. Sherlock Holmes. He ran his hand across the letters almost reverently before letting it drop to his side.

"Hey, so I guess you finally know the truth... I'm a criminal. You'd have probably caught me sooner or later... you were always brilliant like that. I probably don't even have the right to say things like that about you anymore, not after what happened... but you have to know how amazing you were. That you were the best man and the most human, human being that I have ever known. I watched you for years on the sidelines, always too scared to actually say anything to you... a bit like a stalker now I think about it, it's amazing you never realised... hell, I even had Lestrade spy on you for me. I'm sure he'll forgive me blowing his cover considering you're not exactly consulting the police anymore... no one will ever convince me that you weren't incredible because you were and I wish more people could've seen it... I guess there's nothing left to say now except I loved you, though you probably already knew that and... one more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock... I know you didn't believe in them but please, for me... Don't be... dead." For a moment he stared at the grave, almost expecting the name to morph into someone else's (preferably Moran's... he never had found out his first name so he couldn't fully visualize the switch, still it was a nice fantasy) and for Sherlock to be back in 221b Baker Street solving crimes, maybe even chasing after him... but the words still stared back in brutal clarity. Sherlock Holmes. This is the price you paid Watson, now live with it.

He was about to turn and walk away from the grave when he noticed a faint movement in the corner of his vision. New instincts from working for Moriarty made him reach for his death ray without thought as he spun to confront this observer, hoping that whoever it was, it wasn't the woman... of all the people in Moriarty's criminal web, she was definitely the one he got on with the least. Unfortunately, Jim seemed to respect her and, he supposed, any woman capable of putting up with the Colonel long enough to extract information deserved some level of respect... still, the knowledge that she'd tried to do the same to Sherlock had well and truly guaranteed their enmity. He hated her, just like he hated all reminders of what he'd lost.

It wasn't the woman.

He vaguely noted the faint footprints in the snow beside his own, footprints he'd missed in his solemn musings but that proved the reality of the figure watching him from between the trees of the graveyard. His hand loosened around the ray in shock as he tentatively stepped closer to the figure, as if scared that they'd disappear if he moved too close. A faint murmur of 'John' whispered along the wind. The barrier broke between reality and miracles. "Sherlock?" The figure smiled.

A/N: Okay I believe that you're all probably a bit confused right now, allow me to explain;

Sherlock was reading some of the entries on John's blog and he stumbled across the posts about the Evil Criminal Web of Evil. Bearing in mind that Sherlock has already encountered Moriarty in the past, he know automatically exactly what he'd be asking of John, especially after his failure in his previous heist. So when Sherlock realises that John's plan has failed, he improvises amid the panicked chaos of Moran getting injured/the gun exploding and he takes a piece of shrapnel from the gun explosions and makes it look like he's been 'killed' in the explosion. The hardest part of all this is fooling Moriarty, in order to do this he knows he also has to fool John so he 'dies' in his arms, knowing this will secure John's future in the criminal web. Sherlock then stayed in the shadows until John was indispensible to Moriarty (which by the point of the epilogue he practically is, meaning that it's safe for Sherlock to come out of hiding). He used his brother's contacts in order to pull off the ruse; they declared him 'dead' in his 'post mortem' and even had a body buried in his place.

Now the tricky part... the pulse? Breathing exercises (yes these do actually exist) to slow his heart rate. The pulse would have been slow enough to make someone in their rational mind question it, however, John is not entirely rational at this point so when he feels for Sherlock's pulse, he expects there to be none. His mind is suggestive, therefore, the slower pulse translates to a lack of one in John's mind.

So to summarise, Sherlock is REALLY good at thinking on his feet (he is a genius after all) and I pulled a Reichenbach on you all ;)

Okay so did you like it? Hate it? Hate me for leaving it like that? ;) Whatever your feelings, I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all of you who've been reading/following/reviewing for your support! It means the world :)

A special thanks to my four lovely reviewers sydg813, rosto4rogue (x2), Neiraaa and ScreenwriterKitteh whose words of support brought a huge smile to my face. You're all amazing, thank you.

I hope you all enjoyed 'Dr Watson's Sing Along Blog' as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

All my love,

Chasing Aspirations xxx