John stood alone in Baker St. looking at the empty flat for the last time. In a few hours he was going to get married to Mary and the life he knew in 221B with the great Sherlock Holmes who had died a little over 3 years ago will be forever gone.
John breath heavily as he saw the spray paint smiley face his friend had drawn and shot at that boring afternoon so many years ago. He smiled at it a little remembering and bended down to pick up the last box of belongings to leave the flat for eve.
As he was doing so he heard a knock at the door. 'It must be Mrs. Hudson who wants to say good bye; that's strange I'm going t see her in a few hours' he thought.
"Mrs. Hudson please don't make this more difficult than it already is…" He said as he opened the door.
"Not Mrs. Hudson sorry John"
to John's shock and horror the person in the door was none other than Sherlock Holmes himself; back from the grave.
"Sher- Sherlo-" John could bring himself to finish the detective's name for he had not made use of it for years and everything seemed so surreal he could say it. His legs felt wobbly and he thought he was about to faint he laid against the door frame to keep his balance.
"What's wrong John? I'm back!" said Sherlock as if he had come back from a trip to Tesco.
"But…you….can't be…you…di-…died...YOU DIED SHERLOCK!" Yelled John in desperation.
It all was too much for the poor worn out Army Doctor and he fainted where he stood; falling hard on his back hitting the back of his head as it met the wooden floor beneath.