Summary: It has been a month since Sherlock's death and John hasn't been coping well. But something that Mycroft brings to the doorstep of 221 Baker Street could change all of that.

It was miserable rainy day in London. Not many people were out and about and one particular person was John Watson. In fact he hadn't been much out at all, and for one simple fact. His best friend, the one that kept his sanity when times were rough was dead. A month to be exact. A whole hellish month where he spent sleepless nights pacing his bedroom or waking up crying out Sherlock's name when the same nightmarish scene plays over and over again in his mind. He tried going to his therapist but she didn't help, and he tried doing his blog again but all that made him think about was Sherlock and he would find himself breaking down again. Even dear Mrs. Hudson bless her heart tried to help me but nothing worked all he could think about was that Sherlock was gone. This brings us back to the present where John with a cup of coffee in his hand is sitting in Sherlock's chair and staring at his dead flat mate's violin. He missed the nights whenever he had a nightmare or when he was sick his friend would play his favorite song on the violin and it comforted him. But now it held no comfort, it was mocking him as if to say "He is gone now, and he is never coming back." Sighing he held his head in his hands, feeling a headache coming on. Finishing his coffee he was sitting back on the chair and was about to close his eyes when there came a knock on the door. Sighing for the second time that day he mumbled to himself and getting up with his cane he limps over to the door and opens it. To his surprise he finds Mycroft at the door with his umbrella tucked on his arm and beside him on a leash was a beautiful German Sheppard. John arched an eyebrow and said dryly "When did you start dog sitting Mycroft?" Mycroft scoffed and said "I am not doing this for my benefit John. I am doing this for you."

"Sorry Mycroft, this is not a good time for me to be taking care of a dog." Mycroft said "I think it is a perfect time John. If Sherlock was here…." John raised his hand to stop him. "Please don't…" he drew a shaky breath and then continued "Besides the only excuse Sherlock would have in keeping a dog is so he could do experiments on it." Mycroft grew a little perturbed with John and said "Believe me I did not bring this dog to be experimented on, at least not in the way you are speaking of." John rubbed his temple and says "Then explain to me why you brought this dog to me." Mycroft cleared his throat and handed him a note and the dog's leash to John. "The note explains everything." he said quietly before turning away and leaving without saying another word. John stood there dumbfounded for a few minutes before finally taking the dog inside the flat and taking off his leash. The dog to his amazement lay down in front of the fireplace like he had been there before. He then opened up the note and began to read it.

Dear John.

We both knew that there would be someday when I couldn't be with you anymore and we would be forever parted and I know how much that would have affected you. A long time ago I did some research on how dogs can help comfort people in times of grief and stress. So I got this German shepherd for you. His name is Courage. I know he will be a better companion then I ever was for he won't hurt you like I know that I did many times. He will sleep by your side when you have nightmares and give the unconditional love that I know I could have never brought. You didn't deserve me John but you deserve to be happy and this is my gift from me to you. SH.

John was literally shaking all over when he finished reading the note. Courage noticed this and padded over to the shaking soldier nuzzling against him. John gasped out "Oh Sherlock." before burying his face in the dog's fur and sobbing uncontrollably.


Later that night a tall and dark figure crept into the flat and what he saw made him feel like a knife had be stabbed in his heart. There lying on the floor with the dog nuzzled up against him was his dear blogger. Tears were still falling down his face and every now and then he shivered in his sleep. Tenderly he got a blanket and covered John up with it with shaking hands. His last words were "Take care of him Courage." before he turned and went out again into the cold dark night.