Ten Thousand Ways To Break My Heart

Chapter 4

Six and a half months is a long time if you're counting. Only, and only John Watson could know. His best friend was gone and was never coming back. It had already been six months, and he had waited in anticipation, for maybe, just maybe he would show up on the door and say, "John, I'm home."

But that day hadn't come and he had an empty feeling in his heart where Sherlock should have been. So, he became just like him. No, not like unemotional and hating all and thinking they were idiots, but forcing himself upon detective work. Slowly, but surely he became smarter and more aware, now a Consulting Detective. Still the only one in the world.

End

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But wait, no. A story can't end that way. Sorry. Bet you too were thinking, "But no! He has to come back! It can't just end like that with a poof."

So, I guess maybe it won't. Because he deserves it, that man. The one who's lost so much. Am I talking about John, or Sherlock? Just guess, lucky guess it will be because it's both of them from the looks on their faces when they realize they can't see each other again. Even if they don't get together, they will love as much as a friend can. And that's a lot to most.

So, there was a case. Just a normal old case, and of course, a bit boring to John. As they searched the house where the body had laid, an officer came running out. "Sir, sir! There's a man still alive!"

John and Greg ran over to the room where she had pointed, and saw a man in the air against the wall, being held up by spears in it. The man looked up and weakly said in a very familiar voice, "Good news, I'm alive and I killed all two hundred men. Bad news, I killed two hundred men and I'm still alive."

It was raspy, and tired and he immediately passed out. After they called the ambulance he remembered. Then did he remember who it was. Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes, the second consulting detective in the world.