Standing on the rooftop
Moriarty lying dead
He jumps, "Goodbye, John."
Three years have now past
I believe in Sherlock Holmes
One more miracle
One day, there's a knock
John is tired, broken, sad
He's there, alive. Back
A fist to a face
Split lip, bruises are forming
"I missed you so much"
"The thrill of the chase
The blood rushing through your veins
Just the two of us."
But John's married now
He has finally moved on
He not running back
Millions of fangirls
Sitting in corners, crying
Rocking back and forth
Myself among them
Laughing at all the pain caused
Am I like Moffat?