11. The End
The great Sherlock Holmes was gone. She'd never wake up to experiments in the kitchen, or piss in the fridge. She'd never get taken out at ungodly hours to check out a corpse. She'd never run alongside him through the streets of London, on the chase.
The game was done. Finished. He was gone. Dead. Forever. She couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. Even after they opened up his casket to show her that it was his body in it, she still refused to accept the knowledge that he had killed himself. Moriarty must have pushed him off, but there was no Moriarty, or so everyone told her.
They called her loony. They made fun of her walking down the streets. Some wanted her to be thrown in jail for helping the murderer Sherlock Holmes. There were days when she doubted herself. He was real, wasn't he? he could never have made all of that up. He was a genius, and that wasn't something anybody could fake. He was real, and so was Moriarty. There was no telling what happened to that man. He probably killed himself after pushing Sherlock so there would be no way to prove he was real.
When they collided, they both stopped. There was no winner.
Her last blog was a hard one to write. There was so much she wanted to say, and no words to say it with. She wrote it and rewrote it, until one day she wrote a single sentence and posted it. Every day after that, she went back and she read it, and she remembered what the words meant.
"He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him."
She'd never stop believing. No matter how many times she had to make a new email because people were sending her hate mail. No matter how many times she had to scrub the paint off her new flat that always read, "Moriarty was fake."
People were ignorant. Sherlock was right. Something messed up had to be going on in their little heads to be thinking that. Everywhere she looked, she saw things he never really had before. She saw the signs of all the soldiers walking amongst them. She saw the teachers and the divorced men and women, just by looking. Sherlock would have been proud of her, and he would have wanted her to move on, but how was she supposed to do that? Find a guy, get married? No. She was going to prove somehow that Moriarty was real. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to bring honor back to the name Sherlock Holmes.
She was walking down the streets, hobbling on her cane. Damn leg started acting up again, and it was worse than ever before now. She was watching a woman with three children on the other side of the road when she ran into him. He was a tall man, but he had light blond hair and a smile. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. She awkwardly crouched down and helped him pick up his papers.
"I'm so sorry." he said, and he held out his hand, "I'm Marty."
"Jennifer Watson."
His eyes grew wide, and his hand gripped hers tighter. She was about to say something polite, ask him to let go, ask him if she knew him because he might had been an old mate of hers that she had forgotten, and that was always embarrassing, but then he opened his mouth.
"I believe."
"Excuse me?"
"I believe in Sherlock Holmes."
Here we go! Last chapter of The Guy and Gall in 221B! I hope you guys all enjoyed this, and I'm sorry the last few chapters were so short. The plot bunnies have ran away from Sherlock and have randomly found interest in Harry Potter again. So, you might see a new story from me in that fandom!
I might continue this, but I am not sure. Thanks once again!
