John gazes worriedly at his fiancée. She seems tense, which is unusual for her, completely different from her usual warm and lighthearted character. "Come on, what's wrong?" he asks.

Mary smiles, although slightly. A sparkle lights up her eyes for a moment, but soon vanishes. As much as she is comforted by the presence of John, she still can't quite forget what is troubling her. She inquires; "Do you think he's finally come to terms with you leaving?"

A warm smile lights up John's face. He stares at Mary kindly; his expression is comforting but is still tinged with something that Mary cannot quite determine. "Mary," he responds, "Look at the ring he's given us!" He points to the extravagant diamond ring on Mary's finger.

She sighs deeply, releasing a bit of her worry. A smile graces her face ever so slightly as she admires the beautiful ring on her finger. It glimmers gracefully in the slivers of sunlight that peek through the slightly open curtains. Sherlock certainly did give them the most stunning ring she'd ever seen. This and the fact that the two are about to begin their lives together eases the tension a little bit.

John grins at his fiancée and winks. "Now, five minutes here and we'll go home." He can't imagine being without her.

Her eyes twinkle shyly. There is no need for words; both are reassured and the prospect of a new future fuels their excitement. Mary dreamily grabs John's hand. "Our home," she declares, staring deeply into his eyes.

Mary begins to ascend the stairs to bid Sherlock farewell. John follows right behind her. He is ready to close this chapter of his life and start a new one; he just hopes Sherlock is ready to do the same. The worn and creaky wooden stairs, although a seemingly unlikely source of nostalgia, bring back memories of John's eventful time here. His focus returns to Mary, and the memories of the past dim for the excitement of the future.

"Careful on the stairs!" he warns Mary. Reaching the top of the stairs, Mary nervously glances at John. The worried excitement in her eyes tells John that she is excited, but is concerned about Sherlock. Mary turns back around, now facing Sherlock's room.

A shrill shriek suddenly pierces the air. Mary whirls back around and looks at John. Her face is painted with a look of absolute terror. Fear strikes him, and he quickly grabs the revolver he carries in his coat pocket. He rushes up the stairs to his fiancée.

"What is it?" He looks around, but sees nothing strange. John's focus now returns to Mary. She has turned back around, and is frozen in place staring into Sherlock's room.

"What? Mary! Are you okay? What's wrong?" John rushes to her side. Her expression is that of terror, and she is still seemingly in shock. "Mary! What is it? What's wrong?" he asks again.

Mary extends a hand upward. Her hand points in the direction of Sherlock's room, and she is shaking. John's eyes dart upwards as his hand instinctively moves once again to the revolver he is carrying.

He sees a shadowy silhouette in the dark room. His eyes widen in fear. As John walks slowly into the room, the golden beams of sunlight from the afternoon sun illuminate the dark room. A lifeless figure is hanging from the ceiling by a rope around its neck.

John immediately ceases his cautious walk and runs to the body. He examines the figure. It's Sherlock's body. John's heart seems to skip a beat. He freezes in shock.

"No." He denies the scene out loud. He isn't talking to anyone; he's just unable to accept what he's just seen.

This is completely uncharacteristic of him, he thinks. I know he wouldn't. After realizing this, he breathes a jittery sigh of relief. He quickly begins, "Don't worry, dear."

Mary looks up at him, shaking her head in horror. She cannot believe how quickly John dismisses the terrible scene in front of them.

"Suicide is not in his repertoire. He's far too fond of himself for that." he assures her.

Mary is doubtful. She sees what she sees, and will not easily be persuaded to believe otherwise.

John walks into the room calmly. "Holmes!" he shouts, his voice laced with a hint of impatient laughter. Sherlock's eyes remain closed. John sighs. Sometimes Sherlock is so stubborn. "Sherlock Holmes!" No movement.

John turns toward the desk, which is cluttered with peculiar objects. He walks up to it. "What on earth? How does he find anything in here?" It looks like an avalanche! Sherlock is definitely an eccentric person. After searching through the monstrous pile of papers, John finds a long dagger with an ornate handle. "When did he get this?" He shakes his head. It's basically useless to ask why Sherlock does what he does. He doesn't work according to rules or expectations of other people. It's almost as if Sherlock has his own reality.

John shrugs and grabs the knife. He walks back up to the hanging body and slices the rope. The body helplessly tumbles to the floor. No response. John furrows his brow nervously. He isn't normally this stubborn.

"Stop acting like an idiot, Holmes! Get up!" Nothing.

John grabs Sherlock by the shoulders and shakes him, yelling, "COME ON, SHERLOCK!"

At the door, Mary remains frozen in shock, completely unsure of what to do.

John drops to his knees. He begins to panic. Breathing progressively faster, John tugs the shabby sleeve of Sherlock's coat up to his elbow. He is now noticeably shaking. John clutches Sherlock's wrist. John's shaking becomes more pronounced.

"Come on." He bites his lip. "Come on. Come on! Come on! COME ON!" John's grip tightens. "No…" he groans. "No… there has to be… there has to be a pulse…" There isn't.

John lets go of Sherlock's wrist. He collapses next to Sherlock. Clutching his head in his hands, he squeezes his eyes shut. John's groans turn to sobs. "Why? How could you do this! WAKE UP! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW! YOU CAN'T!"

Mary, trembling, finally stumbles into the room. She sinks to the floor next to her fiancé, tears streaming down her face. "He's gone." She gently places a trembling arm around him. John's outburst slowly begins to quiet.

221B Baker Street turns silent.