- A Sherlock ficlet (post-reichenbach)
“We found him at the bottom of the falls," Lestrade said in a monotone voice, reading off a small notepad in his hands. "Is he…?"
John gazed down at the man before him, his dark curls wet and his eyes closed as if peacefully sleeping. But John knew better. Sherlock Holmes did not sleep.
"That’s him," John murmured. "That’s definitely Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."
Lestrade nodded, then left the room. John looked around the empty room. He thought about what was inevitable: the funeral. Who would be there to mourn the great detective? Did he have any true friends? Perhaps, John thought hopefully, he was Sherlock’s friend, the only one in the world.
But with Sherlock gone, who was he now?
Original entry