I'm sure by now you have all heard the horrible news regarding my very good friend, Sherlock Holmes. If not, I cannot find it within myself to explain on here what happened. I would ask you to refer to the news in order to gain a better understanding, but I fear that in this instance, the media is not on our side.
However, if there is one thing you must know, it is that James Moriarty was real. And now, James Moriarty is dead. Do not believe his lies. Because Sherlock Holmes was real too. And there is nothing more that can be done to ensure people believe that.
It has been the pleasure of my life to be involved in the many cases that Sherlock and I have taken on from our little flat in central London, and to document them all for you here to read.
Whether it be a missing person, a murder, or a stolen good or relic, being by the side of the best and only consulting detective in the world has given me a life of excitement outside of my time in the army.
When I came back from Afghanistan, I was merely a lonely man with a psychosomatic limp who was struggling to make ends meet, slowly going insane as he hobbled along the expanse of the city with no real purpose. Then a mutual friend of both mine and the detective's introduced us, and we moved into our cosy 221b and so started our adventures. Instead of documenting a mundane day-to-day of being trapped in the confines of my troubled mind and dingy, unfurnished flat that nobody read (because let's face it, why would they?) I was able to take on the task of blogger for the most genius mind in the country, following the advice of my therapist. We gained many fans during this time, and Sherlock's crime solving was quickly recognised by the public media, something which, I will admit, I was concerned about. And with what is being said in the media now courtesy of Moriarty himself, I will take this as one of the only times I was right, and Sherlock Holmes was wrong, though I wish now that he could have seen the danger instead.
On my request, please no longer return to the flat for any reason. As I type this, I am awaiting news on different places where I can stay in order to get away from the flat and sort out my affairs, so I will no longer be there. For those of you who are convinced that there is any truth in Moriarty's claims in the media and intend on expressing their frustrations towards my late friend, I encourage you to not target the flat. The only resident that will stay there now is Mrs Hudson, an elderly woman with an unparalleled security system, which I will emphasise, and is not mentioned in any news reports whatsoever regarding the matter. To target her would be both foolish and cruel.
For those of you still reading, and those of you who believe in Sherlock Holmes, I leave you with this: I will be forever grateful for my roommate and best friend. Despite his many eccentricities and idiosyncrasies, I know that I have met the best friend I could ever ask for.
In the incessant sounds that would come from his violin playing at ungodly hours of the night, there was always a beautiful melody that would eventually lull you to sleep if you tried hard enough.
In the extra money that drained into the rent because of the damage to the walls and mantle from either a knife or a gunshot, there was the relieving reminder that Sherlock Holmes was innately human, just like the rest of us.
In the struggle of drug habits, there was a man struggling but trying to tame a gift he was never properly taught how to manage.
In the frustrating impossibilities ever-present in his deductions, there was also the reminder that one man had saved the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands. Perhaps even millions. Or maybe the world, all things considered.
And I find myself constantly unsure if he ever got properly thanked for it.
For those of you who care, thank you. For those of you who still do not believe, I cannot convince you. But one day, the truth will emerge, and I will be nothing but relieved when it does.
Sherlock Holmes, you were the smartest, wisest, best man I've ever known, and I will never forget our adventures together. Rest in Peace.
-Dr John Watson.
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The Fall Of Sherlock
FanfictionIf one man could survive his own death, then that man would be Sherlock Holmes - genius detective, self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath, and Dr John Watson's best friend. That didn't mean John had to know about it. In fact, it was imperative t...
