Height Limits
He said he would follow him. Stick with him until the very end.
Sherlock was dead and there was no more Scotland Yard. No more back alley chases. No. Not anymore.
John opened the door to the roof of St. Bart's. He walked slowly memorising every little detail. If he stared long enough he could see the body of James Moriarty, gun in hand. Dead.
He couldn't believe that Sherlock only jumped off that building three years ago.
He walked to the edge of the building and looked over. It was higher than he remembered seeing but he was too busy at the time watching his best friend fall to his death.
This was the end. John was going to follow him where ever Sherlock went – even if it meant off the edge of the building.
John looked at the cars. There were several cabs still at the stop-lights. As John looked at the cabs he smiled to himself. On the roofs of the cabs were letters that spelled out.
'I believe in John Watson – SH'
John turned around and came face to face with the worlds only consulting detective.