A bunch for my Sherlock OTP, full of memes, artwork, prompts, gif, videos, one shots, post, and much more. Entirely dedicated for Sherlock and John
Part of the Ultimate Collection Series, each book is dedicated to a ship, this book is dedicated to J...
This amazing piece of art, I found in a comment thread in Pinterest and I had to share it because it's so amazing. Credits to Sean the magnificent creator of this mini one-shot
Sherlock could not fail to deduce with his painfully logical mind, that John was dead. He'd been shot through the heart. Sherlock couldn't get there fast enough, for once. He last vow was broken forever.
No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be! But the evidence was right there. It was a fact as much as 2 and 2 are 4. He heard a sound to his left and looked in the direction. The murderer still lurked, waiting to shoot Sherlock as well. Sherlock was unarmed; he took john's pistol and shot john's killed in cold blood. The police would come. They would all be standing around a dead body. And Sherlock? He was the one that put it there.
He commanded himself not to feel, not to think about what had happened to John, but it was perfectly impossible. The thought came into his unerringly organized mind from all corners, blaring into his head: John was dead. John, his loyal friend and one person he could rely on to be there for him. Sherlock couldn't even save him. No, he thought, remember what Mycroft said. Caring is not an advantage.
But it was too late. He cared already. He cared so much about John it was nearly abhorrent to his very nature. Everything, even the dark ally, seemed to become more intense. The cars roared past, and the streetlights blinded him.
"No! No, no, no, no, no! Stop!" He yelled out into the London night. It was too much. Everything was too much, and he sat down and rocked from side to side like he hadn't done since he was a child. He hadn't felt like this since Victor Trevor died. His cold, calculating demeanor was totally gone now. All he felt was the agony of loss. It was a pain he simply could not bear. He couldn't imagine life without John Watson.
He reached for john's pistol again. He looked at John, and put his hand on his shoulder, then took it off again. "Goodbye, John" he said. One more shot rang out form that alley in the middle of London.
Here it is in the comments section on Pinterest
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