Random Sherlock Oneshots

Poem

Shush, my Dear Watson, don't say a word.

You haven't been the same, not since the fall.

But Sherlock left a note with his phone call.

You might even think this sadness won't pass

But he'll some looking through his looking glass.

He burned Sherlock's heart and that was you,

The famouse Dectective saw everybody through.

Falling's just like flying, didn't you know,

Sir-Boast-a-Lot's lie will steal the show.

So shush, John Watson, don't you cry.

Sherlock doesn't know that he can fly.

I look at you, standing sadly at my grave,

Grieving for a life you thought you couldn't save.

I'd like to tell you that I'm not really gone,

Believe me when I say I'm sorry, John.