I had done it. I had played the greatest game of all.
And I won.
That's it, John. Grieve. Cry for the great con artist formerly known as Sherlock Holmes. Because you will never see him again. Unless, of course, you ask very, very nicely. Then, I may consider making a comeback. Not just yet, of course. The papers still need time to soak it all in. Time to feed the conspiracy theorists, with their tinfoil hats and braided beards. 5 for a video, 3 for a pic, and 10 for a shot of a bystander being sick. The amateur journalists would be jumping for collective joy. So, I suppose, would that footballer who had been shagging around this week. Dimitar Something-or-other? I can't remember. Draw some attention off of him, at least. Sherlock Holmes, who aided and abetted an overpaid sportsman. The bravest knight of the realm. And speaking of knights of the realm, I know in my mind that The Storyteller has not yet finished. It would be comforting if he had, of course, yet comfort is a luxury. And right now, I'm quite short on metaphorical cash.
Mycroft really should consider blocking off those windows in that club he frequents. I saw him in there, the other day. Voyeurism, you call it? I disagree. I say it's… looking out for the family. He looked disappointed. Not in my "suicide," of course. Dare I say he saw me sneaking out of the mortuary? Disappointed, in truth, at the fact that I may have slightly….. Failed. Just a little bit. What were John's words to his therapist? "Some part of me wants to believe he's still alive." I'm convinced I may have cocked that up slightly. After all, that's all it takes, isn't it? Just some part. It's hard to kill an idea when it's up there.
The best way to lie is of course to convince yourself that the lie you are telling is true. That is somewhat difficult when you're lying on the ground, blood pouring onto the pavement, yelling in your mind "What the bloody hell did I do that for?" But I know why I did it. Moriarty quite possibly knows of my last lie. But he doesn't want to believe it, because he's seen the pictures. And that is how we perceive things. The human eye. People spend all their lives looking for truth when it is standing in front of them. If only there was some way to disconnect the subconscious mind from the eye. Then we would wake up and see the world for what it really is. That's just in terms of perception, mind you, I don't think we would all literally wake up from our own Matrix dream-world. Earth is fine with just one Keanu Reeves.
But I suppose I'm wasting my time here. There is planning to be done. Disguises to be formulated. Mycroft's helping, whether he likes it or not. You can stop addressing yourself now, Sherlock.
Well it's alright, It's okay, You can look the other way…..
Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive…