When I was younger my mother used to tell me that there was a light inside of you. That light
represented happiness, love, friendship, humor. The things in life that just make you feel
better. And my mother also said that the light could never be broken. Because you always had
someone in your life, that fixed the light inside you. But what about when that person who
fixed your light…was gone.
I walked into the flat that Sherlock and I used to share. At 221b Baker Street. When I enter I see
Mrs. Hudson staring down into her tea. Of course she is upset to. About Sherlock's….death. I
climb up the stairs. I wish I could hear him again firing his bloody gun at the wall. I enter with a
deep breath. I look around. To anyone everything looks the same. The smiley face on the wall
with bullet holes through it. Mine and Sherlock's laptops on the kitchen table, Sherlock's violin.
And the game of cards we never bothered cleaning up after we were done playing. Yup,
everything is normal looking. But to me everything is different. And I don't know if "everything
is normal" can ever be said by me again. I take a seat on the chair and look over to the couch.
Wishing I could see him lying down, complying that he is bored. I stare up into the ceiling and
close my eyes.
"I don't have friends…I've just got one."
"John? John! You are amazing, you are fantastic!"
"Take my hand"
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson
and Molly; in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you... that I created Moriarty for my own
purposes."
"You... you told me once... that you weren't a hero. Umm... There were times I didn't even think
you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, the most human... human
being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so... there. I
was so alone... and I owe you so much. But please, there's just one more thing, one more
miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop
this..."
I woke up with those words ringing in my head. I don't know whether to smile or cry. I try to
smile but the picture of Sherlock lying lifeless on the ground bleeding kills the smile and
replaces the smile with tears. I can see the grave with the name "Sherlock Holmes" writing on
it. I was in the war, and I lost many friends, but I never felt this way. In the middle of crying I
hear a "bing" sound come from Sherlock's laptop. I go over and open it up. Ah damn it, he put a password on it. I think about how he figured out mine. A time, or date? No he would not put
something that obvious. For a while I could not think of anything. I tried things only me and
Sherlock would knew about. Like I O U, and Sherlocked. I think about the words in my head
when I was sleeping. Maybe…..I carefully type in "Take my hand" And then it goes to Sherlock's
home screen. A picture of the wall, with the smiley face on it. I look at his email to where the
"bing" sound came from. There are a lot of unread emails. Probably mostly cases he never
bothered to look at. I look at the first unread email. And it was from Sherlock to Sherlock.
What? The title read "John Watson" I don't know anyone else with the name Sherlock. And why
would they send I email to Sherlock if it was meant for me? I drew the mouse over to it and
clicked on it. The letter only had three words. And they were.
"I'm Still Here…"