𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐖- 𝐒. 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐒

VI. Where everything becomes a blur.

At Peter Steiler's advice, on the afternoon of 4th, you, Holmes and Watson set off together, with the intention of spending the night at the hamlet of Rosenlaui.

You had strict orders, however, on the account to pass the fall of Reichenbach, which is about halfway up the hills, without making a small detour to see them.

It is indeed a fearful place: the torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunges into a tremendous abyss, from which the spray rolls up like the smoke from a burning house.

The shaft into which the river hurls itself is an immense chasm, lined by glistening black rocks, and narrowing into a creamy, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and shoots the stream over its jagged lip.

The long sweep of green water roaring forever down, and the thick, flickering curtain of spray hissing forever upward can turn a man giddy with the constant whirl.

You stood near the edge, peering down at the glint of breaking water far below, and listening to the half-human shout of the water.

You felt a pair of arms around your waist and a presence behind your back.

You turned your head and saw Sherlock there, pressing up against you while smiling down tenderly at you.

You felt a bit uneasy, and your cheeks flushed with a crimson red, but you didn't push him away.

On the contrary, you laid your head on his shoulder, to which he gladly responded by kissing your forehead.

''Sherlock?'' you asked, after a few moments of peaceful silence.

''Yes?''

''Are we going to make it? Moriarty... are we going to get rid of him?''

He looked like he had to think about it for a few seconds, and a hint of panic tickled your senses.

''Of course. Don't worry. Everything will be just fine'' he assured, smiling warmly and looking deep in your eyes.

''I just don't want you to... to die... seems unbearable...'' you confessed, looking at him.

''Oh, dear, sweet Y/N. You just can't stop worrying about others, can you?'' he asked chuckling lightly.

''I can't stop worrying about you'' you confessed, and turned around, letting him see the sadness and sorrow on your face.

He cupped both of your cheeks in his large, warm hands. Oh, his hand felt so dry and rough... He leaned closer, now with his face right in front of yours, and, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss your lips. But instead, he smiled and brushed his thumb across your cheek, and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his chest. Despite of what you first thought, he was surprisingly warm, and he had a familiar and comfortable feeling about him.

''I will be fine'' he whispered in your ear, trying to reassure you.

After a while, you resumed your journey, the two of you holding hands like the adorable lovers that you were.

When you were ready to pass the bridge and head over in the hamlet of Rosenluai, you saw a young lad running towards you with a letter in his hand.

It wore the mark of the hotel, and it was addressed to John by the landlord.

It appeared that shortly after you left, an English lady had arrived, being in the last stage of cancer, it was thought that she could hardly live a few hours, but it would have been a great consolation for her to see an English doctor.