A/N: My sister threw a plate at me when I read C'est La Mort to her, and she threatened me with more physical harm if I didn't post this tonight. So here we are, at the end. According to my emotional and semi-violent sibling, the epilogue is also quite heartbreaking. Let me know what you guys think! About the last chapter and this epilogue!

Laura pulled her jacket tighter around her middle as she made her way through the graveyard, shivering despite the relatively sunny weather. She followed the same path she'd traversed the day before with John and Mrs. Hudson, winding her way between the flowering trees whose roots had befriended the decaying corpses underfoot.

She came to a halt a few feet away from a familiar obsidian tombstone, but kept her gaze focused on the chapel a few hundred yards away. She'd managed to hold back her tears yesterday as she'd stood with Mrs. Hudson and watched John quietly converse with the black headstone. But she could feel her resolve beginning to shatter as she stood there by herself, without an audience to stay strong for or a friend to comfort her.

Laura closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning her face to the sky to let the sun dry the tears that slid down her cheeks.

"You are such an idiot," she whispered, slowly opening her eyes and letting her gaze fall on the golden letters that spelled out her lover's name.

"Your plan isn't going to work," she continued, and she didn't feel even the least bit ridiculous as she criticized the deceased. "I know you don't think we could've been happy if you'd stuck around, that you thought I was trying to push you out of my life with John. Well you were wrong. Did you hear that?" she asked, looking up at the sky again.

"You were wrong!" Laura shouted up into the clear cloudless atmosphere above, reaching up to bite down on her knuckle as she let out a sob.

"We can't do this without you," Laura continued, her voice weak and wobbling now as she looked back down at the tomb stone. "I can't do this without you," she amended, sucking in a sharp breath as she realized just how true those words really were.

"Damn you, Sherlock Holmes!" Laura cried as she furiously slammed her foot into the tombstone. She fell to her knees in a blubbering mess, blindly reaching out to touch the golden letters of his name.

"Why did you have to leave me? I need you. God, I love you Sherlock; didn't you know that?" she demanded, then lost herself to another bout of anguished weeping when she realized that she'd never properly told him.

He'd died thinking she didn't want him anymore. He'd died without knowing she loved him.

And now he would never know.

Sherlock was dead, and Laura would never get to tell him she loved him. She'd operated under the assumption that they'd have their whole lives to sort everything out, that even if he left ,she could still contact him and beg him to come back. But now…now his absence was permanent, final, something no one could come back from.

Laura had thought that if she'd stayed alive and kept fighting, she'd have everything she'd ever wanted. But she'd totally overlooked every other outside source of despair, and all along there'd been a countdown on their love that she'd been entirely unaware of, a time constraint she'd never seen coming.

"It isn't just me, either, Sherlock," Laura said after a few minutes when she'd managed to pull herself together a bit. "I'm not the only one you've left behind. John needs you, Mrs. Hudson needs you…Dammit Sherlock, we all need you!" she cried, angrily taking hold of either side of the tomb stone.

"Why did you have to leave us here all alone?" she whispered, pressing her forehead against the cool stone. Sherlock had kissed her there, on that afternoon when she'd realized he could be the thing to save her. He'd cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against the exact same spot where lifeless rock now rested.

"I need you," she breathed, pressing her head harder against the tombstone. "Sherlock, please," she begged, desperate to push herself into the obsidian and morph into a creature just as empty and barren as the stone. She wanted to crawl down beneath the freshly turned dirt and soil, to climb into his grave and lay there beside him until the life drained from her bones and they were together again.

But no, Laura wasn't Heathcliff and Sherlock wasn't her Catherine. Perhaps he may have been her soulmate, but he was not her only love, he was not her entire other half.

No matter how desperately she wanted to give into the urge to smother herself in sorrow and dive into the ever-welcoming arms of death, Laura couldn't be with Sherlock-at least, not yet. She couldn't give up on living- at least, not today.

She couldn't leave John.

And so, Laura slowly loosened her grip on Sherlock's tombstone, and pulled her face away from the cool rock. She swallowed her suffering in a heavy gulp and rose from the ground, bottling away her anguish as she buttoned closed her coat. And then she turned and made her way back to the street, leaving behind a piece of herself but choosing not to look back.

Laura returned to Baker Street from the graveyard at around noon, ready to help John pack away the remainder of his clothes and other odds and ends so he could begin moving into her flat. However, instead of being greeted by Mrs. Hudson's overabundance of tea and biscuits (everyone grieves in their own way, Laura supposed), she was met by DI Lestrade when she entered the forye.

He looked haggard and altogether exhausted- the only expression Laura had seen on the face of anyone she cared about since that horrid morning. Lestrade seemed unsure of how to approach; his arms had opened a bit as if in offering of a hug, but his hesitation made it clear he didn't know how best to proceed.

Laura made the decision for him, coming forward to bury her face in his shirt the same way she had...the same way she had just after she'd seen Sherlock for the last time.

Lestrade didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head, silently letting her sob into his chest. He knew she needed to be held, understood his presence had awoken a flood of emotions within her, empathized with the overwhelming loss Laura felt gaping within her like a black hole that threatened to swallow her entire universe.

Lestrade understood.

When Laura finally pulled away from him, Lestrade gave her a moment to wipe her eyes before producing a plastic evidence bag.

"I came to give you this. We found it on...on Moran's body," Lestrade told her, speaking carefully so as to not set her off again.

Laura took the bag and Lestrade gave a nod, letting her know it was alright for her to open it.

"It's yours isn't it?" he asked as she withdrew a mobile phone from the bag.

"Yeah," Laura croaked, staring down at her cellphone. She'd forgotten about it entirely. "You said you...you said you found it on him?" she wondered, and Lestrade nodded.

Laura fought off a chill of horror as she realized Sebastian must have snuck into Sherlock's room and taken it as she'd slept. He'd been mere feet away from her and she hadn't even noticed. Suppose that hadn't been the first time he'd stolen into the room where she slept-what if he'd…?

But no, Laura immediately shut off that train of thought. Sebastian was dead. He was gone, and he could never hurt her again. It didn't matter.

"There was text sent from it to John's number saying something about Mrs. Hudson being in the hospital," he told her, and Laura felt a bit of her confusion about the events of that morning fade away; that's why John had arrived so distraught. "And a missed call," Lestrade continued, and Laura looked up at him when he didn't continue.

"A missed call from whom?" she demanded, her heartbeat quickening anxiously as Lestrade looked down at his feet and continued to hesitate. "Greg, who was it from?" she insisted, and he wore the same expression he'd had when he'd relayed the news of Irene's death what felt like centuries ago.

"From Sherlock," he told her, and Laura felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. "He called you and left a voicemail, then he called John as well," Lestrade added, unable to stop now that he'd begun. "We didn't listen to it, of course; I came over the minute we figured out it was your phone," he explained, then trailed off into silence.

"Thank you for returning it to me," Laura told him, her voice strained and thick, and Lestrade nodded emphatically.

"Of course, of course," he told her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. "Don't...don't be a stranger, alright? If you ever need anything…" his words trailed off again, and he gave a little shrug that clearly said 'I've never been too good at this whole verbal consolation thing'.

"Thank you," Laura repeated, if only to give him a graceful exit. Lestrade hesitated for a moment, his hand on her shoulder as his eyes scanned her face. Checking to see if she'd be alright, if she and John were really stable enough to be left alone.

Then he gave Laura's shoulder a squeeze and turned away, heading back out into a world full of arbitrary heroes and villains.

Laura checked to make sure Mrs. Hudson's door was firmly closed before she lowered herself onto the bottom step of the building's staircase. She held down the power button on her phone until her service provider's logo flashed on screen, then opened up her missed calls.

Sure enough, Sherlock's name and contact photo- an image she'd snapped of him in lab goggles and gloves, grinning from ear to ear as he proudly showcased his discovery of a new sub-species of oceanic bacteria-were at the very top of the list.

Laura decided it was best not to let herself dwell on the happy memories the picture represented; the early days of her friendship with Sherlock were long gone, and no amount of longing was going to bring them back.

She tapped on the unopened voicemail and brought the phone to her ear, leaning her back against the wall and closing her eyes.

"By the time you receive this message, I will have left you. And for that I'm terribly, terribly sorry. But in order for you and John to live...to live the lives you deserve...I have to go. But that isn't the only reason, Laura- beautiful, wonderful Laura, Laura whom I ruined and am now finally able to save.

"They were right about me. Richard Brookes and Donovan and the others, they were all right. I am a fraud. I know you will not believe me and neither will John, but the two of you must hear me when I tell you that I am truly sorry. I lied to you, I swindled and tricked and, and abused you, and for that I must...I must leave you.

"I hope that one day you might be able to forgive me, Laura. Laura, my love. Please, forgive me."

The hallway felt suffocatingly silent in the absence of Sherlock's voice.

Laura stiffly rose to her feet, numbly sliding her phone into her pocket before she ascended the staircase. She pushed open the slightly ajar door to 221B and entered the flat to find the blinds drawn and the lights off, the faint light only adding another level of despair to the room's already somber atmosphere. As she stepped farther into the room and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she caught sight of John.

He was seated in his maroon armchair, completely dressed save his bare feet. He stared off into the empty space before him with a blank expression, his eyes unfocused but pointed in the direction of Sherlocks' black leather chair.

John slowly looked up at her as Laura approached him and kicked off her own shoes. He opened his arms in invitation as he bit down on his lower lip and rapidly blinked away tears. Laura gave in to his unspoken request, climbing into his lap to rest her head on his chest.

John held her close as she closed her eyes and took in a heavy breath, the two of them alone together in this haunted and silent flat that was once so full of life.

A/N: So there it is. While this story was cheerful and then got real depressing, I can promise the sequel will start out rough but definitely get better and then be all funtimes and rainbows

But in the meantime:

Joyful/painful things to look forward to in the sequel (NOT in order of how they happen):

BABIES :D

Lots more Molly Hooper!

Pregnant!Laura punching Sherlock in the face

John walking out on Laura when he discovers her relationship with Sherlock

WEDDINGS :D

Laura not going to grief counseling or rape therapy

Sherlock finally getting a hug

John making out with Sherlock

SHERLOCK'S RETURN :D

John/Laura/Sherlock three-ways

Sherlock playing with babies/toddlers

John crying and screaming in his sleep

No mustaches

This fic may be over, but I'll see you guys soon! We'll be together again in the sequel :) It'll be called "Atlas Hands," by the way.

***UPDATE: The first chapter of Atlas Hands has been posted!***