We all stand there, frozen in shock, as Jim Moriarty's blood spills into the pool.
Sherlock puts the gun back into his pajama waistband, pulling his baggy t-shirt over it to conceal the shape. We stare at him, the small dead man, lying there, completely limpless, lifeless. Gone. He's just gone.
As simple as that, it's over. Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective, a mastermind, a genius to be reckoned with had simply shot one of the most powerful men in history, and in death, he is nothing more than just a man.
Sherlock falls back onto the wet floor, crossing his long legs together and clutching his face in his hands, clearly overwhelmed by what he just did. John settles next to him and rests his head on his shoulder, and I tuck myself under John's arm and we all just sit and stare until the sun rises the next day.
YOU ARE READING
Seeing double
Fanfictionੈ✩‧₊˚ Avery Watson never expected to meet Sherlock Holmes, let alone fall in love with him. ੈ✩‧₊˚ When Avery arrives in London, broken and reeling from her past, she's looking for a fresh start. She's staying with her brother to help her get back on...
