Last Will and Testament
of
William Sherlock Scott Holmes

I, Sherlock Holmes presently of 221B Baker Street, hereby revoke all former testamentary dispositions and so on and so forth and can we please get to the interesting part? Honestly, how much must I prattle on before I actually get to the important things?

Governments.

Shut up, Mycroft. And don't roll your eyes.

Oh, finally, the interesting part. Yes, I'm sure you're all very interested to learn what the great Sherlock Holmes has to say now that he's finally dead. For real, this time, the selfish bastard (shut up Lestrade, I know you're thinking it).

But...in all honesty...I am sorry. To every one of those - admittedly very few - whom I called 'friend'. Greg Lestrade...Mrs. Hudson...Molly Hooper...Mary. And John, of course.

Oh, yes, fine, and I suppose my parents and Mycroft too.

To Lestrade, I leave my notes and cases. Do try and learn something. Maybe the crime rate will actually drop by some noticeable percentage.

To Mrs. Hudson, I leave whatever money is required to repair the flat and catch up on the rent. If physically possible, I will also leave my ghost.

To dear Molly, I leave my skull (wherever Mrs. Hudson put it) and my experiments. Hopefully you'll find them...enlightening, if nothing else.

To Mary, I give the greatest gift I am capable of giving. John Watson. I think you might like him.

To Mycroft, I leave my violin. Do try not to break it.

To my parents, I have nothing tangible that might interest you, so I will leave you with some words to think on. "Silence is the most powerful scream."

To John, I leave all the rest of my personal items, whatever funds I have left at my disposal, and my most prized possession - London. Take care of my city, John.
In the event that you are...dead, however, my remaining possessions (exempting whatever Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Mary, and my family choose to keep for themselves) are to be auctioned off, and the proceeds, combined with my remaining funds, are to be split evenly between Mary Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and Harry Watson (not, you understand, to be spent on drink).

London I leave in the capable hands of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and my own brother, Mycroft Holmes. Do try not to start a war, brother dear. It makes Lestrade's job all the harder.

I return my flat to Mrs. Hudson, and hope she can find a tenant for it, even with my ghost (hopefully) still in residence.

Goodbye, friends. I will miss you so.