The Very Last

by littleoddstar

(I don't have enough Reichenbach poems, apparently. Oh well.) This is the very last. The very last sound, step, breath. This is the very last. The very last battle, moment, nightmare. These are the very lasts of the flat-holders of 221B Baker Street. Time's run out. (Warning: Character Death and general feel destruction. T for suicides.)

The Very Last
Nah, I don't need to own Sherlock- this poem is mine.

xXx

This is the very last.
The very last shout,
the very last stand-off,
the very last gun-shot.

This is the very last.
The very last pace,
the very last cry,
the very last decision.

This is the very last.
The very last phone-call,
the very last word,
the very last plead.

This is the very last.
The very last sound,
the very last step,
the very last breath.

This is the very last.
The very last pain,
the very last black,
the very last tears.

This is the very last.
The very,
last,
time.

There's none left.

oOo

This is the very last.
The very last visit,
the very last flower,
the very last gate.

This is the very last.
The very last night,
the very last text,
the very last cab.

This is the very last.
The very last run,
the very last key,
the very last choice.

This is the very last.
The very last step,
the very last lock,
the very last pill.

This is the very last.
The very last battle,
the very last moment,
the very last nightmare.

This is the very last.
The very,
last,
time.

We've run out.

xXx

This is very vague. For those of you that understand what just happened, I'm sorry. And no, I'm afraid that I cannot fix your feels. For those who didn't, read it again. Before the oOo is Sherlock, after is John. Have fun.

If you understood it, and now need major surgery on your feels, read any other fic than... well, mine. Though the Lonely Swing has a happy ending (I won't mention the middle). And I have some fluffy ones favourited. Yeah...

Please review. Please. Pleeaase. Pleeeaaase. Pleeeeaa- yeah, I'm done.

Ta-ta (for now),
Los :D