Not a long fic at all - just an in class writing assignment, given the sentence "If I went there a second time..." May write a longer fic or sequel, but must finish Penpals first. I hope you enjoy. :)

If I went there a second time, I don't know if I'd ever be able to come back, he had once told me, in the privacy of our shared room. At the time I did not know what that meant, figuring that perhaps he was in a state of inebriation and simply led him to his bed, muttering words like "Alright, friend, time to go to bed" and "All will be clearer in the morning." I never took him seriously.

I looked out at the city from where I stood on the bridge, behind my dear friend of so many years. It was so quiet from up here, so still.

Of course he knew of my presence, as he always seemed to, and didn't bother turning around.

"Lovely, isn't it?" he asked me quietly. I could tell by the rasp in his voice that he had been drinking once more, but chose not to comment on the matter.

"Quite," I said, moving to sit beside him, feet dangling precariously over the river below.

A moment of silence passed, in which he offered me his bottle of port, but I declined. I would need my head straight if I were to comfort him.

"How was your day?" I asked him, unable to think of anything else and he laughed, a hollow, empty sound because of his less-than-satisfactory mood at the present..

"Cut to the chase, dear, that would be best," he said, taking another swig of the glass bottle before dropping it into the swooshing waters below. If he wasn't so drunk I would have commented on the danger it caused, but said nothing.

"Alright, then," I said softly, not looking at him as I spoke.

"You went to visit her again, didn't you?"

Holmes nodded solemnly, his eyes following my gaze to the river below us. I sighed, my breath puffing out before me into the chilly air. I was momentarily reminded of being young, running down the road and pretending to be a dragon with all the other ruddy-cheeked children.

"Do you think she is alright?" he asked me quietly in a shimmering moment of vulnerability.

"Quite alright. I am certain she is enjoying herself immensely," I whispered, wrapping my coat further around my person, the wind intensifying as the hour grew late, "I assume she would want you to be happy, to take her death as another ever-occurring part of life."

He hung his head, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Let's not speak of it, Mother Hen, hm? Let's just sit up here, above the river, the city, and try to forget." I nodded, watching as his cold hand reached to pat mine as if I were the one needing consolation.

It wasn't my fault, but neither was it his. And he would learn that eventually. But for now we took comfort in knowing that we were eachother's dearest friends and trying to forget all else.