There are the people you meet, the rare addicting ones that you can talk to for ages and they never get boring. Then there are the people who you talk to for five minutes and already they are dull as dirt. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were of the first kind-the rare addicting kind of people. John had been normal, the pulse and thrum of normalcy guiding him through the streets of London. Sherlock had been a chaotic mess of extraordinary, he defied the very meaning of the word normal, and when you kept severed heads in the fridge how could you possibly be normal? Two people so very un alike in their beliefs and culture, habits and mind, body and soul.
However somehow they clicked like two puzzle pieces-you know when you're trying to fit two puzzle pieces together when it's so painstakingly obvious they won't fit but you try anyway and then you find the right one and the two fit perfectly and you wonder why you tried to fit the other two together in the first place?. It was those puzzle pieces clicking together. Think of your life, your own utterly fragile human life and imagine it... changed. It's like when you read a really good book and it changes your whole way of thinking and you realize you didn't really like how you thought before and you decide to think in this new, braver way and the entire world just seems so utterly good and great and you wonder how you didn't see it before. It's when you find something and hold on to it and suddenly your whole well-being revolves around that thing-not in a bad way though, not really. And this thing, it becomes if you will, the proverbial and metaphorical wall that holds up your life.
And thus comes into play the moral knows of right and wrong. Sherlock Holmes was not necessarily a good man, but he was a great one. John Watson was a good man, but he wasn't a great one. They are the sun and the moon, the brain and the heart. They were fine with that, that extraordinary kind of normalcy that seemed like they only had. But you see, as the night and the day, everything changes and everything dies. But because they are proverbially "the night and the day" they won't ever die not completely. Because like the night and the day they die as day changes into night and night changes into day, but they don't actually die. They are still there, never forgotten. Sherlock and John were like that. Because they are like infinity always folding back into the same, you can go from one side to the other but you'll always end up at the beginning.
Until you fall off. Then there is no going back. You'd have to climb back up, a long and painful process by any accounts. But like gravity and the Earth's surface they are always drawn back to each other. It may have ended with a fall. It may have ended with blood all over the pavement. It may have ended with a black ebony gravestone with gilded gold lettering that said, "SHERLOCK HOLMES". However, the ending is sometimes a new the world is not what it seems, just because you see something, does not necessarily mean its true. You have to learn to observe instead of see. Sometimes you have to slow down and realize that hope is not lost.
That there will always be people who didn't fall off. That still believe in Sherlock Holmes, no matter how tarnished his name has became. That will always believe in the great Sherlock Holmes (and logic).