AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who has followed and read this story recently and from the very beginning! You have made these past few months so happy for me because I got to write a story and receive wonderful feedback from amazing people like you! Please feel free to review or private message me your thoughts on this story and how I can improve my writing for the future. :)

Ya'll are just freakin' amazing! Enjoy Chapter 19, the very last chapter :)

A week later, I was discharged from the hospital and moved back in with Sherlock. When I walked in the door after painfully ascending the steps (I was still suffering from the bullet wound, but the doctor said I'd be up and running again in another week), I was welcomed with a banner proclaiming "WELCOME HOME, NICOLE" and all of my friends gathered together, yelling, "SURPRISE!"

Words lack the ability to truly explain how happy I was in that moment. The least I can say is that, for the first time, I truly felt like I had a family again. Everyone hugged me gingerly, aware of the pain I was in, and wished me a quick recovery. Even Mycroft hugged me, but only for a moment, of course; that much was more than I could ask from Mr. Government Man. I noticed Lestrade wasn't there.

So everyone sat down and Sherlock filled me in on what I'd missed in the past week. Mary was getting ready to have her baby any day now (she's as big as a life-size blueberry, I thought), Moriarty would be having a funeral (no one's gonna show up, but okay, I thought) in the next two days, Mycroft donated blood to me which aided my survival (holy shit, I thought, glancing at Mycroft in shock; he merely smirked at me and looked back at Sherlock as he continued), the news of Moriarty's death – thanks to our motley crew (Sherlock said interesting team of individuals but I thought we were more of a British X-Men group), Molly announced that she'd recently met a new man and things were going very well (Sherlock quickly said to make sure he was neither gay nor an extremely dangerous consulting criminal; Molly had to leave the room. We all glared at Sherlock until he realized his mistake and went out and apologized), and Mycroft said the British government was cracking down on security so that men like Moriarty ("No one's quite like Moriarty, though," John whispered to me and I snickered) won't be able to get within the British borders again.

"Does this mean I can't use the bathroom without being spied on?" I quipped, after raising my hand like a schoolgirl and Mycroft calling on me as if he were the haughty professor.

"We do all appreciate our privacy, Mycroft," John agreed. Mary nodded and jabbed a thumb at her husband: "What he said."

Mycroft rolled his eyes at us all. Molly and Sherlock came back inside as he was explaining the technicalities of the crack down on British spyware and blah blah blah.

"Hey, Molly," I said loudly, interrupting Mycroft. "Please tell us about your new boyfriend so Mycroft will shut up."

"Excuse me, I donated blood to save your life," Mycroft chastised.

"Doesn't mean I wanna listen to you flap your gums," I retorted and that made everyone, even Sherlock, laugh and chuckle a little. I winked at Mycroft to let him know I wasn't serious; a smile played on his lips but he struggled to hide it.

So, the news-sharing portion of the evening being done with, we all milled about the room and discussed random, ordinary things with each other like the weather. I educated Sherlock and Mycroft on the whole 'Kim and Kanye' craze back in America and they were very intrigued and joined me in criticizing the wildly famous and filthily rich couple; meanwhile John was stuck with Mary and Molly as they discussed the baby and he was required to share sufficient enthusiasm about the color of the baby's room and what kind of clothes would be bought for her. John, though ecstatic to have a daughter, seemed very bored with the particular topic.

I left Sherlock and Mycroft and pulled John aside, telling Mary I had to tell him something important. I led him into the hallway and down the stairs.

"What's wrong?" he asked, instantly worried.

"Oh, nothing," I said, "you seemed like you were gonna die of boredom so I saved you. You may shower me with praises later."

He laughed and took my hand.

"Quick, let's get a cup of tea before they realize we've left the room."

I unlaced my hand from his and pulled open the door.

"I'll race ya!" I took off out the door with John hot on my heels, yelling about how I got an unfair head start. I ignored the flaring pain in my stomach; I was too happy to give it attention.

I paid the price for racing John to the teashop next door. In the morning, I was bedridden and moving made the agonizing pain worse. My eyes went wide when Mrs. Hudson walked in with a tray carrying a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with a glass of orange juice. I had expected to be ignored for the majority of the day, since I wasn't in the shape for crime solving with Sherlock.

"Wow, thanks Mrs. Hudson," I said with awe. She waved off my gratitude and beamed at me in a way that filled me with warmth.

"Not a problem, dear," she said in her sweet, old voice. "You need good food to build your strength back up."

"Yeah, and we've got that funeral tomorrow," I said, picking my eggs with a fork and stuffing them in my mouth. Mrs. Hudson looked at me curiously, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What funeral, dear?"

I looked up at her with a mouth full of eggs.

"Moriarty's. Didn't Sherlock tell you?"

She shook her head and laughed; it sounded forced to me.

"Oh, that Sherlock never tells me anything," she said with a smile. It slipped off of her face quickly, not to my surprise. "Dear," she began. She paused, sat on my bed, and folded her hands together. She's about to say some serious shit, I thought; I sat up straight, swallowed my eggs, and gave her my full attention. "Dear," she began again. "Are you sure you want to attend that man's funeral?"

That man, I thought with an inward smirk. She says that as if he had been a normal person.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, I just feel obligated to."

"Oh, dear," she said, putting a hand on my arm. I expected to feel uncomfortable from the contact, but instead I just felt warm inside again. "Nobody's making you do anything. You've been through quite enough these past few months."

"Trust me, I know that," I said with a reassuring smile. "But… Moriarty, he… how do I put this… he had, um, certain… feelings towards me, which I was unaware of… like, I didn't know about that part of him until literally seconds before he died… and, I dunno, I feel like the least I can do is go to his funeral. Y'know what I mean? He was a total asshole, but he was human, too, and he had feelings that he never got to express… and, I… I just feel like, to be a decent human being, that I should at least pay my respects to him… this probably isn't making any sense at all, but it just feels right."

To my great surprise and gratitude, Mrs. Hudson just smiled at me. She said something I'd never forget.

"Dear, you've got a heart the size of an ocean. I'm not surprised he noticed you sooner or later."

I stared at her, incredibly touched and flattered. That had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me.

All I could say was: "Thank you." And all I knew was that my heart wasn't like that when I boarded the connecting plan from California to London so many months ago.

When Mrs. Hudson left, I picked up my phone and texted Lestrade. After five minutes of deliberation, I finally sent this:

Hey Greg. I just want to say that I forgive you. But I can't trust you anymore, so I won't be contacting you again. But if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to give me a call. It's the least I can do for someone who made a deal with Moriarty to keep me safe.

- NS

Then, I texted Mycroft. For the first time, as I typed, I felt nothing close to disgust or reluctance. In fact, I felt a lighthearted.

Sup Mr. Government Man. Let's meet for a cup of coffee (or tea, whatever) as soon as I can walk without feeling like I've been punched in the gut. Seriously though, let's start hanging out. You're a pretty cool guy. And your brother is famous, so that's also a perk.

- NS

The next day, Sherlock, John, and I attended Moriarty's funeral. Turns out, Moriarty had a brother named James who was a quiet, soft-spoken professor at a university in Wales.

Well, his brother got whacked with the crazy stick, I thought after meeting him.

Besides him and the New Scotland Yard police force (minus Lestrade; I had no idea where he was), Sherlock, John, and I were the only ones there. No one spoke during the funeral; Sherlock didn't even mumble about how bored he must've been. Afterwards, I put a bouquet of flowers on Moriarty's grave and we left.

Lo and behold, a month later, Mycroft and I were a steady couple. Of course Sherlock despised it and made puking sound effects whenever we kissed in front of him. Mary thought we were cute, though, and John said I could've done worse. Honestly, I think Molly was just glad that Sherlock and I didn't hook up; so she supported Mary and said we made a great pair.

Mycroft and I were a great pair, though. Polar opposites, to be exact; he was the logical, no-funny-business side of the relationship while I brought in the sarcasm and hilarity and kept things light and happy. I even got Mycroft to let out a loud laugh from time to time, at which he'd go red and compose himself; then I'd kiss him and he'd go red all over again.

I saw Greg Lestrade on occasion when I made stops at the New Scotland Yard. We exchanged civilized hellos but nothing more. It hurt, to be honest; we used to be really close. But sometimes people just leave you in life, maybe because they were never meant to stay. Sometimes, when I was alone, I would remember all the good jokes we had and back when I nearly loved him. But, hey, we all think we're in love when the person who's really meant for us is standing right in front of our faces, waving their hands and yelling, "HELLLOOOO!"

But, everything was good. I still had my truest, closest friends by my side, not to mention my partner in crime solving proved to be the most loyal friend I could ask for when all logic said he should've left me alone with Moriarty to save himself. Not to mention that Mary gave birth to her baby girl a few days later. We were all there to see it, even Mycroft (to everyone's great surprise; he seemed a little insulted by that). Mary named her Maria Nicole Watson; I held back tears as I held the prettiest baby I've ever seen, and John asked me if I would be her godmother.

This is my family, I thought with utter joy. I'm finally home.

"Yes," I said, tears streaming down my face.