Most journeys end on a lighter note.

John Watson's journey wasn't supposed to end like it did.

His life was like something from a thriller novel, but with an unresolved ending. John was once broken and then put back together and everything worked out better than he expected. But once the fall happened, John stopped working again.

Oh. You haven't heard of the fall?

All over the news, I tell you.

Sherlock Holmes had a great fall...

John Watson remembers every day. He wakes up in the middle of the night and keeps himself awake, because he can't sleep without nightmares. All because of the fall.

He feels like his heart is no longer with him, because he stopped feeling it beat after he turned the corner and saw the lifeless body of his best friend. Lying there.

Two years, nearly, of denial and emptiness. Two years the will to live decreasing. Two years of visiting Sherlock's grave, creating a permanent grass-less spot in front of the massive stone block.

The earth cannot function without its sun. The body cannot function without the brain. The doctor cannot function without the detective.

John believes everything can still be set right, deep inside, because although he doesn't know it, hope is left in his heart, but only where he can't grasp onto it.