John was just persistent. He s taken a habit of following me around and remarking at how remarkable I am. He finds the obvious quite entertaining. There s no fun in that, it misses the big picture, the grand scheme that makes the crime so very interesting.
I ve always mocked his intelligence, but there is something that even I can not take into account.
I know him, I do not understand him.
His loyalty goes beyond the ordinary means of any person I ve ever met.
It s a matter that has caused him much suffering and doubt. He s a fool for believing in others so strongly.
And here I stand overlooking Bartholomew Hospital, tottering on the edge of my life to save those closest to me.
How the coin has flipped, John. Now I m the fool.
They re all ordinary lives, but the great detective is going to die for them.
The world has called me a fake. It s begun to doubt me. I ve become an ordinary just like you in the eyes of the masses now. They prefer this truth that I was the villain all this time than the one that Moriarty had a grip on every one's throats.
This does not upset me.
But I m left with one inquiry. A case to which you may be my better.
If the evidence and facts all point towards me, and the world has already betrayed me, why haven t you?
You gain nothing from any of this. You have no proof. If I were to say to you that I was not the man you thought I was you d refuse to believe it. This goes beyond sense. There is no reason to believe that I wasn t pulling one over you with Moriarty and the bomb. I ve done it before.
Your reputation and life could go on after this. The ties could be severed as easily as you walking out of our flat and never looking back. You d be harmed by nothing if you picked up your life somewhere else.
If it were a matter of anything you lose, John, you should already have figured out that you can move on after this is all over. But you still persist. As I stand here with Moriarty-the actor Rich Brooks, faced with the accusations of scandal, conspiracy, treachery, and deceit of all of England you deny the preferable truth as much as you possibly can. There s nothing left for your argument that the public has not already found a way to dismiss or counter, but you still have a sort of blind faith.
Each of your senses are telling you I m not that great detective, John, and for a moment even I believed it was all a lie. You haven t wavered from what you believe, and I doubt you ever will.
You ve bested me.
I can t solve why.
But I still believe you re something worth dying for.
Goodbye, John.
You re extraordinary.
