a/n
Brief moment of angst whilst looking at a picture of Sherlock on a cliff with "Liberty in Death" text on it.
Sherlock peered over the rocky ledge with a distant gaze. His toes were dangling over the edge, occasionally knocking loose a few pebbles. The valley below stretched out over the horizon like the sea. The wind blew his ink-black hair around his face, but he ignored it. He ignored everything. Because, for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes' mind was silent.
There was no puzzles to solve, no killers to chase, no urge to feed. There was nothing. Without taking his eyes away, he reached into his pocket and drew out his mobile. He typed a quick message and set it down on the rocks beside him. He took off his favorite blue scarf and set it down as well, under a rock to weight it down.
Sherlock Holmes smiled, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.
To: John Watson
Liberty in Death.
-SH
That...is so much shorter than I thought it was...huh...
