Even though it's not much, I thought I'd give you a little gift for the new year!
I wish you a very happy and successful year, may it be the best so far and don't forget to have fun :)
Good luck tomorrow watching the episode, and may god have mercy on our souls!


"Just a sec". John sighed and stopped walking just before they entered the building, in order to answer his ringing phone. Sarah stopped as well and leaned against the big, see-through door. John looked at the screen and almost fell off his feet. He could not believe his eyes. It just couldn't be. That number's owner couldn't be calling. That man was most definitely dead. John knew that. He saw him lying on that pavement with his head smashed and face covered with blood. That sight still haunted him in his dreams and all waking moments as well. The phone kept ringing and ringing and John's brain didn't command his finger to press the bloody button. "John, are you alright?" the sound of Sarah's voice was all he needed to pull himself back together. His heavy thumb landed on the rigid key and then, the ringing stopped.
"Hello?"


Sherlock froze. "Hello?" The man on the other side of the line asked again, fear and terror in his voice. In less than a second Sherlock's own voice returned and, in an even lower and more radio phonic voice then his usual, he asked "Am I talking to Mr. Watson?"
His heartbeats quickened as his friend said yes. "Who am I talking to if I may ask?" John sounded quite disappointed, but yet, relieved.
Sherlock didn't know what to say. Usually, he'd have a really good idea at this point but nothing happened. The emptiness devastated him. He tried one last time and, to his good fortune, the old familiar train of thoughts suddenly rushed through his mind, millions of scenarios and ideas. Oh! Of course! it suddenly hit him. But it took him so long, he did get rusty after all.


"Well?" John asked, irritated. he was still standing in the same position as he had been since the bizarre conversation began. Even though he could hear that the voice on the other side of the phone was not Sherlock's he wasn't completely convinced that the speaker was not, as weird as it may sound, his dead friend.

"Turn around" the voice said but John stayed still. Maybe Sherlock had pulled some sort of sick prank on him, faking his death and then coming back two years later just to see the look on John's face when he did, just to prove John that he was smarter than him. Maybe he was standing right behind him now, with his proud arrogant smile, just waiting for John to turn around. No. It was too sick, even for Mr. No-heart. But then again, when it came to that man, you could never know. He knew Sherlock was dead but deep inside, somewhere, he wanted to turn around and see that idiot bastard one last time, standing there, his hands held together behind his back just so he could go and punch him really hard on the face! He gathered all the courage he could find in the distant and abandoned places of his brain, took a deep breath, counted to three, turned around and nothing.

No sign of life once or ever. No long coat or familiar face. Just nothing. That man on the other side really got on his nerves now. There are two ways he could have gotten that phone. He could be Sherlock, which he's not or he's the man who pushed Sherlock off that roof. Sherlock would have never jumped without a really good reason, right?
"What do you want from me? who the hell are you? and how did you get that phone?" His voice grew louder as he spoke and as it did, his temper rose as well. Whoever that man is, he is the reason Sherlock is dead now and he will pay.