Carolers began to fill the streets, a sign of the coming holiday. John sighed and continued on, back to the flat.

"We are waiting. We have not forgotten".

Mycroft emerged from his office and set on his way to the cemetery to visit the grave of his brother. The snow was just beginning to fall quicker so he figured he would take a cab instead.

"Taxi!"

In the cemetery stood a woman. She just stood in front of Sherlock's grave staring in disbelief.

Mycroft pulled up and stood out of the cab, passing the driver his money and bidding him a farewell. He saw the woman with his own eyes, yet he could not believe it. It was her. But how?

The woman. That woman. Saved from her death by no one other than Sherlock himself. She had fallen in love, and yet the one person to match up to her in any way, lay dead six feet under. Turning she caught sight of the man whom recently popped out of a cab. Bloody hell, how could this be? What could she do beside stand there frozen?

"Ms. Adler...?" Mycroft's gaze fixed on her.