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Ten e-mails
3/5/2020
Mycroft,
Sorry to have shaken off your boys. Surely you realized that Mr. Moriarty and I are playing the final game; therefore I shall remain excessively cautious. Your men are slightly better than, if not equally destructive as those Scotland Yard morons. Had I allowed them to follow, Mr. Moriarty would have gladly knocked on my door, standing on their bodies.
An extraordinarily brilliant rival, Mr. Moriarty. I've been enjoying the chess. However, to be honest, there are risks I can't withdraw, unharmed, in the last battle. Undoubtedly I will give him some rough time, and we're likely to perish together. My apology if you are saddened, were the situation to descend to the worst. But please understand that it's inevitable. Perhaps it's a comfort to you that even if it ends here, I flatter myself that my life hasn't been wasted, and I can go on another journey without regret.
Alas! I shall be honest, at least now, shan't I? I'm sorry that I've been giving you headaches since I was 12 years old, yet deep down in my heart—though I never admitted— I've always respected and admired you. You're beyond me, in whatever abilities: observation, self-discipline or long-term strategic planning. Envy you? Yes, subtly. Meanwhile I'm also very proud of you, of your excellence. And please allow me to express my gratitude—do you really think that I haven't discovered that it was you who led me to this trade?
Earlier this evening, I played Cannon in D Majorwith the hotel band, which reminded me of our last duet before you went to Oxford. That was perfection. Melodies waltzing in my mind, at least now I feel very happy.
I reckon you already know that I had visited John the night before I left London and invited him to go on a holiday with me in Europe. His loyalty! It terrifies me to think of his deadly grief when he hears the bad news. Inviting him must have been the most irrational stroke in my book. Too late to remedy.
I've made a plan, though. And let's hope it can work. "Hope" as I put it—under normal circumstances, John's brain capacity wouldn't allow him to find out the loophole of my plan. Nevertheless, Dr. Watson may become Dr. Who for a second or two if he's serious about the matter and try hard enough. So please take care of him on my behalf, in case he finds out anything.
I tried to write to mom but failed miserably. Please tell her I love her forever. And thank you for always taking care of her.
Best wishes,
Sherlock
Meiringen, Switzerland
6/5/2020
My dear boy,
Please contact me. Stop playing hide-and-seek. Time to go home.
John has seen better days. Your plan, maybe not a total failure, only had little positive effects. The good doctor encountered two hikers who claimed to have seen the final duel between you and Moriarty. Your story apparently won't work. He is wracked. Come back and take care of him yourself.
Mycroft
Meiringen, Switzerland
13/5/2020
Sherlock,
I must go back to London. Mom is suspicious.
Stop your childish game. Everyone is worried about you. I've turned this place upside down for a dozen times, and my men won't withdraw unless they find you. Pray don't be found by me if you are still hiding in some god-knows-where cave, because I will definitely squeeze some sense out your little complacent brain by then. Don't try me. This is your ultimatum.
Write to me.
Mycroft
20/5/2020
Sherlock,
I brought John back to London. I'm afraid he isn't well, at all. And you are the only person who knows and has the cure.
If you're just running away from it, please stop it. Stop being irresponsible. Come back, and I will give you what you want most.
We both know that you can count on my words. So come back. You will have your dream.
Mycroft
20/5/2020
Sherlock,
John closed his clinic. He hasn't recovered from the destructive blow. Honestly, he may never walk out of it.
I'll do best I can. But I'm not the person who can drag him out of the eternal dismay pushing him towards the brink of collapse.
Mycroft
3/6/2020
Sherlock,
I'll be forced to take some extreme measures unless you make some sounds.
Hope it's obvious to you that your disappearance in this manner will inevitably bring out my utmost resentment towards you. Kindly remind you that I'm a thousand fold eviler that your good, loyal doctor.
Mycroft
15/7/2020
Sherlock,
You didn't take my words seriously.
I hate such audacious threat. Apparently stronger stimuli are needed in this case: I plan to uncover all your secrets to Dr. Watson. Imagine the shock. And I can verify his doubt about your disappearance.
And I won't be responsible for his behaviours thereafter. I'm afraid your blog writer is too emotional. In case you don't remember, he was sad for a whole year after you pet dog died.
Please understand this is your last warning.
Mycroft
1/8/2020
I'll never accept that you're dead. For God's sake, you're a Holmes!
A Holmes shall not die so unobtrusively, even at the hands of Moriarty!
You disappointed me immensely.
Mycroft
15/08/2020
Sherlock…
4/9/2020
Today I played Cannon in D Major several times for you at the Fall. The song is soulless without you. Gazing into that pool, I still can't believe you're in that cold abyss.
My sense is telling me you are dead, which is the result concluded from all the tracking, investigation and reasonable deduction. I even resort to some illegal means to inquire those two hikers who claimed to have seen you fell together. I believe they are telling the truth. And…given that I've been using John as the threat, you couldn't have remained nonchalant if you were alive.
I'm tormented by regret. I'd never been there for you when you most needed me. I've always thought I'm a good big brother, but I've missed all what mattered.
I refuse to believe you're dead, until I obtain the permission to dam the Fall and dry the pool, and find your body.
I'll keep 211B for you. Return when you like.