Chapter seven: It was over
Sherlock felt everything and nothing at the same time. The pill was slowly passing through his throat. Those seconds seemed like eternity. Suddenly Sherlock heard the man hitting the ground and heard him saying "Well done, Sherlock Holm-" he couldn't finish his sentence.
Sherlock went outside and waited for the police to arrive. When they did, there were a lot of questions that he didn't want to answer but he did. Donovan was there and so was Lestrade.
Sherlock felt the need to go and leave, so he did. He walked through London's streets looking at everyone passing and leaving their lives with their little common brains. He slowed down at Baker Street and stopped at 221B door. He knocked and an old lady let him in. "Hello, Sherlock" she greeted him "Hello, Mrs. Huddson" he greeted back. The old lady made tea for Sherlock and asked "Did you find a flat mate, Sherlock? Are you moving in?" "No" he simply replied. They sat in silence for a long time "Do you mind me staying here tonight?" "Not at all. But just one night". Sherlock went upstairs and laid on the bed. It felt strange again.
John Watson should have slept in this bed.
What was happening?
It was over, but it didn't feel right. This wasn't the way it all should have been.
No, it wasn't.
Sherlock was lonely, so lonely.
He missed someone, he didn't even know
Someone special, that should've been there for him
But he was lonely, and that was all
"John Watson" he whispered one more time
The name felt warm, but he was cold
That name felt so good, but he felt so bad
And so lonely, Sherlock fall asleep
Maybe it was all just a ~dream~
