"Heroes get remembered, but legends never die." - The Sandlot
Word count: 229
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: All things belong to their respective owners.
Note: This can be also read as if it were talking of the books, movies, etc. I just chose Sherlock.
Heroes get remember and he was one.
I knew it until the end that he was one, no matter how much he denied it, no matter how much he acted like a jerk, no matter how his name was ruined.
He would go for days, foregoing food and rest, just to find a kidnapped child, or to capture a killer. He dealt with the 'freaks' and 'weirdoes' that were shouted after him. He enjoyed finding whatever criminal there was, and analyzing them with startling accurate details. I knew that he was a hero from the first case.
He saved mankind from a horrible demon, known as Moriarty. And as he was a hero, he gave his life to save mine, Mrs. Hudson's, Lestrades…and all of the world, really. He died not caring that his name had been slandered by that psychopath. No matter what anyone said, he was still a hero.
No. Not a hero. A legend.
Sherlock Holmes was a legend. Even now, you hear people whisper his name with excitement. The ones who knew he was innocent of everything rebuilt his prestige. I knew his Network would stay loyal to him until the end. The ones closest to him knew the truth. He wasn't simply remembered.
In the hearts of the people, Sherlock Holmes still existed.
My best friend would never die so easily.
Legends never die.
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