They looked into each other's eyes.
They laughed as if 'twas the sunrise.
They looked into each other's eyes.
They kissed.
Dear John below was left alone
to face his quite bitter sorrow.
His friend was dead, or so he thought;
depression was left to be fought.
John loved Sherlock and always would,
but Sherlock's action proved he could
give up that love,
for Sherlock's wrong made quite quite a shove.
Moriarty? Moriarty?
Why would he choose Moriarty?
How could he choose Moriarty,
over him?
This could not be Sherlock.
No, he knew him far too well.
But what if he did not know
his darling man at all?
So many questions popped
into his bitter surgeon's mind.
John was left alone,
in his misery, confined.