"Sherlock? I thought you were dead!" I say once he takes his hand off of my mouth. We are still in the woods. "How did you survive?"
"That's not important. Did you get my note?" He asked, focused on something important to him. I look at him. His eyes were bluer than I remember. His hair grew longer, but not tragically long.
"What note?" I asked him. "When did you give me a note?" His head snaps in my direction. "You mean you didn't get the note I left you?" He asks, his voice rising.
"What note? Am I missing something here?" I asked, trying to calm Sherlock with my soft voice. It doesn't work. His eyes have become the eyes of a mad man. "Watson, I don't know how much more obvious I could've made it." I looked at him. "Remember when we were talking on the phone before I jumped?"
I nodded. "I told you that this is my note."
"I thought you were talking about a suicide note. That the phone call was the note."
"Did you lose intelligence or something? Suicide note? Why would I make that?" I shrugged. "My note was the phone. I recorded Moriarty confessing to his crimes. He confessed everything."
I looked at him, shock spreading across my face. "How did you get him to confess?" I ask.
"Easy," his voice returned to a level volume. "I was playing dumb. I asked questions. I never ask questions. I always answer them. He explained them to me once I showed that my mind wasn't as strong as his. Well, that was obviously a lie. He believed me. I had my phone behind my back. The idiot didn't suspect a thing."
Even though he explained what happened, there were still unanswered questions. "What happened to Moriarty? Why did you jump?" He took a couple steps towards a tree and put his back against it. "He told me that either I die, or my friends die. I thought I would fool him. I stepped on the ledge, about to jump, but I stepped off, realising I had won this battle. He put a gun in his mouth, and before I could stop him, he was gone." He explained further.
"If he was already dead, why did you jump?" I asked. He looked up at the sky through the trees, as if trying to remember. "I had to finish off this battle. Plus, I was going to get frowned upon for supposedly killing a man. At least this way, I don't have to live with it."
I sighed. "You could've just explained." He looked in my eyes. "They wouldn't believe me. They think I'm a psychopath. They would make up stories and trash my image. Eventually, people would stop coming to me for crimes to solve. Instead, they would think I committed some crime that they can't solve." He resumed looking at the sky.
Would people actually do that? Would they blame someone just because they are smarter than anyone else? As if Sherlock were in my thoughts, he said, "The press wants something interesting, and they are going to get it, even if they have to make up a story. They would obviously go pick on someone that no one else can figure out. Wouldn't you do the same, John?" He caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting a question directed towards me. "I-I guess."
He kicked himself off of the tree. "Even I crave for more intelligence. It's a weakness humans have. They want something they can't have. They can't live without it. It's like a drug. You need it. You can never have enough. But, what I have learned Is that the more you know, the more paranoid you are. You lose sanity, believe it or not."
Is this what he has been thinking about for the past year?
Suddenly, I came to realization. "Sherlock, what are we going to do? Everyone thinks you're dead." He stopped me. "Let them think that. That's how I want it."
"But where are you going to go? You can't stay here forever." I ask. He looks at me. "I'm not going to stay here forever, John. I am going to a new part of England. Maybe even a new country, anywhere but here. It's not safe here."
"Sherlock, we can't just run off and start a new life. You are known worldwide."
He whipped around. "I didn't say you are going with me." I gasped. We just reunited. I thought he cared. "Sherlock, aren't we friends? I want to go with you. We are a team."
"Not anymore," he turned away from me, adjusting his scarf, "This is best for everyone."
"I won't let you leave! I love you!" I yelled at him. He turned around with a blank expression.
"I-I mean… Molly loves you." I corrected. He turned back around and started walking away. "Molly will be okay as long as she still thinks I'm dead."