The Unfinished Case// A Sherlock Story

XXI

(This chapter may cause triggers to suicide so read at cautions or skip to the next chapter)

12:00 am

It was time.

Max walks out of the abandon warehouse, ready for her destiny. She always did value a human life because life is something that a price could never be put over. The soul of a human is too unique and fascinating for something so injustice. A person's face can be altered or copied but the soul stays in unison, unique, deep down in the pits of their heart. Many people loose their souls and is left with nothing more than the feeling of emptiness. That's when they realize how much their soul is worth to them and they will do anything to get it back.

But what if they can't? What if their life was shortened and their soul's light dim away into the darkness of death? What if that person who caused such pain that causes ripple effects through everyone was Max? Max was responsible for so many deaths, even though she used to think it was an eye for an eye and nothing else mattered. She always hated capitalism justice but she was in fact doing what she hated.

The burden she carries on her shoulder was too much to handle, the loneliness was too much for her to contain, and the solitude she has forced upon herself drives her mad.

'I wouldn't be missed if I was dead," she thought as the midnight sky looms above her.

She was wrong. So many people would miss her, so many friends she had made along the way would feel at fault for her death, and so many souls would dim in her mourning. She never realized that Sherlock truly had feelings for her, or that Eurus loves her like family, or that Billie actually cared. She confines herself in these dumb definitions and words that people had given her.

Cruel.

Merciless.

Malicious.

Evil.

When really, she was so much more.

Gentle.

Beautiful.

Intelligent.

Kind.

Someone has to tell her these things. Someone has to snap her out of her trance.

That someone, is none other than Sherlock Holmes.