John, Rosie, and Sherlock arrived at the gravestone of Mary Watson. Sherlock wheeled a wagon of flower bouquets behind him, watching the figure of his friend walk up to the grave of his ex-wife, Rosie in his arms.

John looked down at dirt that is supposed to bury Mary. He turned his head slightly towards Sherlock, silently asking if he could have a moment of time in private. Sherlock seemed to understand, as he bowed his head respectively, walking away. John looked back down at the grave. He took in a shaky breath before beginning to talk to what is hopefully the spirit of Mary. "Hi, Mary." John cleared his throat. "It's been three years since you died. Not sure if you faked it, as you-know-who did it. The days keep on getting better... look —" trying to push past the ache in his chest, he continued. "I miss you a lot. Not as much as once you left, but, you know. Sometimes I wonder. If I got there quicker, would I have been the one who's six feet under? Uh, Rosie's doing well. Still alive, as you can see." he lifts up Rosie, who simply gurgles in response. "Sherlock's been there for me. I wonder how he isn't fed up with me yet. I mean, there should be a point where one night he will get tired of consoling me when I wake up about another nightmare about you. It's funny, in a way, he's like you." he exhaled. "Mary, you've been there when I was at my worst. And it's one of my life's regrets that I wasn't there when you were at yours. I'm so sorry —" his voice cracked. "For cheating on you, for everything. I have no idea what you saw in me. But I promise that I am trying to be that. N-Now, I'm not here to talk about remorse. There's more." he paused. "I'm moving on. Don't take it as I'm forgetting you. I don't think I ever can. Never. But, I can't keep loving a dead person." he placed a bouquet of roses in front of the gravestone. "Thank you. Thank you for being there for me, for loving me, for bringing Rosie in my life. Thank you for all of it. Oh, and Rosie chose the bouquet."

A tear rolled down John's cheek. Rosie wiped it off with her chubby fingers, bringing the attention of her father. John smiled lovingly, kissing her forehead. He put her down. "Do you want to say anything to Mommy?" he asked.

Rosie walked towards the tombstone. "Hi, Mommy," she said. "Daddy really misses you. Sherlock does too. Daddy tells me all the stories Sherlock and him go on. I want to be like Daddy. I made you this today," she grabs a drawing from John's hand, showing it off to the air in front of her. "That's me, Daddy, and Sherlock. The blank spot is you. I don't know where you'd be, but Daddy showed me many photos of you. You're really pretty." placing her picture next to the bouquet, she held John's hand. "Daddy says you can see it. That you'd take it to Heaven and frame it in your house. Please make it a pretty frame. With glitter. We miss you, Mommy."

Tears were shamelessly falling down from John's eyes, looking at his daughter so adoringly. It didn't matter if he was in the army, he will cry when he felt like it. He kneeled down, hugging Rosie. "Oh, Rosie..."

Rosie hugged back. "Don't cry, Daddy. I don't want you to be sad. You..." she struggled with her words. "Deserve better than that."

John pulls away from the hug, looking at Rosie. "Deserve? Who taught you such a big word?"

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock?"

"He says it all the time when you leave. That you..." Rosie struggled with the word 'deserve' for a few moments before giving up completely. "...more than that."

John looks up, turning around to look at Sherlock. There, Sherlock is there under a tree, watching them. He turns back to Rosie. He kisses her forehead. "Thank you, Rosie. Now, c'mon. I just have a few more people to visit." he stands up, picking Rosie up before walking towards Sherlock. "You can go to visit Mary now. I just have to visit a few more people," he told Sherlock, taking the handle of the wagon from his hands. Sherlock nodded.

"Alright." was all he said before walking to the grave. John smiled at the man before pulling the wagon behind him, heading to other gravestones in the graveyard.

The first he visited was Soo Lin Yao's. Then the governer's and his wife's. Then the people who died in honor in the army. Then Ajay's, as he knew Mary would've. When he left, he left a bouquet of flowers at the foot of their grave, the wheels of his wagon squeaking.

By the time he went back, Sherlock was walking away from the grave, his hands in his pockets. His eyes glanced at the wagon before it settled on the doctor. "There's still one more bouquet."

John chuckled. "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. There's just one more person I need to visit before we have to leave, okay?"

Sherlock sighed, nodding. "Alright. Lead the way."

The duo (and baby) made their way across the graveyard, where a certain gravestone came into view. As John kept walking, Sherlock stopped in his tracks. "What are we doing at my grave?"

"We're going to give a bouquet to it, wasn't it obvious enough?"

"No, but why? I'm not dead."

"You aren't? Then I should give you this instead of a tombstone." John handed a bouquet of red roses to Sherlock, kissing his cheek. "We best be going," he said, walking off, leaving Sherlock — for once in his life — completely dumbfounded.

Sherlock twisted his body around, clutching the bouquet close to his chest. "Is this what —"

"You're the detective! You figure it out!" John yelled over his shoulder.

Looking back at the roses then at John, the gears in his mind seemed to turn, putting the two pieces together. A smile crept up his face. Before he knew it, his long legs were running, running towards John. "John, hold on!"

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AHJAJAAHIAJA I didn't try to edit. Enjoy~