The bone hand of the skeleton boy covered John's on the iron gate-post and John felt apprehension and desire knot in his stomach. Empty sockets stared down at him and a breeze played with the wisps of dark hair surrounding the skull of his friend. "Still, I do," John whispered, loud enough for Sherlock to hear him. "Always." The wind howled around them both as they embraced at last.

JUST BECAUSE YOU LIKE THE SHERLOCK TEA DOESN'T MEAN YOUR TASTE BUDS ARE SHITTY I LIKE IT A LOT TOOOOO!

WE'RE GOING TO HAVE MYSTRADE IN HLV!!!!!!!!!!!!JHIUQHEIUQWGDUYGQWDLUYG!UWYDGIPUQWGFIQPWEHFGLQUWGORDIUAINT7