The Doubts and Lamentations of John Watson
That day you called to leave a note
For a deed for which there is no antidote
You called to tell me that you had lied
But is that really why you died?
I wonder what you would say
If you could see me here, today?
Would you say that you miss the days
With me, solving case after case?
Or was I, your only friend, no different
From those who you call ignorant?
Was I just a pawn in your game of chess?
Or was I your only weakness?
You left me a note to tell me of our separation,
But couldn't you answer at least one of my questions?
What do I do with your research, your things?
What about your scientific findings?
I guess you don't care about them anymore
Well, you never did care about tracking blood on the floor
Never cared for the mess you left behind
Yet you seemed so much more refined
Than all of us you left combined
While deducing the pasts and histories
Of those you didn't even care to see
Are we all just puppets in your elaborate show?
Emotions just something you'd just forego?
Too unpleasant, playing games are much more fun!
When you aren't the suffering one
I guess when you devised your plot
You didn't see yourself getting caught
Even so, did you have to die?
The thought of it just makes me ill
I can't believe you'd do this, still
You couldn't have lied, could you?
Not after what we went through?
I hope Moriarty was real, but I think, What if?
What if Moriarty was actually a myth?
Then, That's ridiculous, absolutely absurd
Moriarty was a criminal mastermind, remember?
But, What if he was created by you as well?
Oh, thinking about it is Hell.
I want resolution to my doubtfulness
I want what I know I cannot possess
Wanting what you cannot have leads to madness and despair
Anguish of that which I cannot compare
Madness in which I am ensnared
Why did you die?
It's what people do.
Did you lie?
But you never told me the truth.