I always imagine that Holmes indeed existed, physically because it was a very harsh truth for me that he did not exist, he does not exist and probably will not exist physically. Now, I'm trying to feel it is already enough that he exists in my heart.
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If I can cross the bridge of reality,
Into the world of fiction.
If I can close the door of truth,
To live in imagination.
I wonder why it's harsh to me,
This puzzling world of reality.
Oh, reality, fling open thy gates for me!
Oh, reality, please
truly exile me!
So that I may live in a carefree world,
Created in my own accord.
But life is not what we can tell,
It is a rushing river to ford.
Don't be left out in the deep whirlpools
Of your own selfish dreams.
For those who are the foulest fools,
Are those who live for only themselves.
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Please understand me. Sherlockians are pretty rare here in our country. I have no one to share this poem with who can fully understand it. I'm an exile.