A/N: I wasn't going to write a sequel to Afterward, but someone called Riandra reviewed it and asked if I was going to write one, so I decided to try. I wrote the other story maybe a year ago though, so this might not have exactly the same style. I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with the ending, but anyway... and it's not quite what it started out as. I thought I could try to write another one if anyone likes this?

edit: I changed the last line and fixed a spelling mistake.

Addendum

"Holmes," he called, softly. Nothing. No breath of wind, no sound. He tried again. "Holmes…"

Nothing.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"What?"

The man appeared, wearing a black scowl. He was perched on the edge of the desk, and the room began at once to fill with pipe smoke.

Arthur Conan Doyle tapped the papers in front of him. "I have a story," he began.

"You do?" Holmes perked up. He strolled over to Doyle and looked over his shoulder. "You mean you've finally decided to write about me? Perhaps a miraculous return from the dead?"

"Yes, and no. You're still dead."

"Of course," Holmes sighed. "Well, what do you need my help with now?"

He picked up the manuscript and flipped through it. After a few moments he flung it down. "Oh, come now. A gigantic hound? You're worse than Watson!"

Doyle ignored the contradiction in that statement and persevered. "But you see what the problem is."

"Yes. It's …lurid!"

"Not that, Holmes…"

Holmes sighed, and sat down again. "You need a detective."

"Yes."

"After eight years, you decide to write about me, and it's only because you need a detective." Holmes sighed, looked at Doyle, was still waiting, and muttered, "Fine, I'll do it."

Doyle smiled in mixed relief and disappointment.

"On one condition," Holmes said.

"Oh?"

"Let Watson have some of the glory. He deserves it."

Doyle sat, stunned. In all the years of his association with Holmes, he had never asked for anything like that.

"Well?"

"Of course," Doyle said hastily. "I can do that, if you want."

"I do."

He looked at Holmes for a moment. He looked the same as he remembered, but there was something different about him.

As if uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Holmes stood up. "Well," he said at last. "That'll be all, then?"

"Yes…yes, that's all."

Holmes nodded, and faded away.