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I know he’s out there. He’s too brilliant, too incredible, too Sherlock to be gone. He can’t be. Every talk figure taking advantage of a long coat, every mop of curly dark hair, every set of pale grey eyes could be him. I know it will be. He’ll be there. I just have to keep looking. Any of them could be him.
And one day, one of them will be.
I think
Nothing about it makes sense. It’s just so wrong. Everything about this. ‘No one could be that clever’ he’d said
He could. I know he could.
How could he be this stupid? How could he do this? To everyone? To himself? To me. I won’t forgive him for this. It hurts too much.
I’ll forgive him. I always will.
We guard.
He isn’t a fraud. It wasn’t a trick. It was real. Every bit of it Every word, every deduction, every mystery. It was real. I told him that I believed he was real. Because no one could fake being be that much of a dick all the time.
But no one could fake being so magnificent all the time either. Being so brilliant, being so incredibly and indescribably him. He couldn’t fake that. He couldn’t. I always believed in him. But I won’t believe that.
I’m not alone. There others who won’t believe that he was is anything less than the world’s only consulting detective. We won’t hear what they say about him, won’t read it, won’t think of it.
His mind was everything to him. Knowing that he was brilliant, that he was clever, that he was sharp was what mattered. And we won’t let them take that away from him. We’ll guard the legacy of his mind, until he can come back and prove it for himself.
I know he’s out there. He’s too brilliant, too incredible, too Sherlock to be gone. He can’t be. Every talk figure taking advantage of a long coat, every mop of curly dark hair, every set of pale grey eyes could be him. I know it will be. He’ll be there. I just have to keep looking. Any of them could be him.
And one day, one of them will be.
I think
Nothing about it makes sense. It’s just so wrong. Everything about this.
‘No one could be that clever’ he’d said
He could. I know he could.
How could he be this stupid? How could he do this? To everyone? To himself? To me. I won’t forgive him for this. It hurts too much.
I’ll forgive him.
I always will.
We guard.
He isn’t a fraud. It wasn’t a trick. It was real. Every bit of it Every word, every deduction, every mystery. It was real. I told him that I believed he was real. Because no one could fake being be that much of a dick all the time.
But no one could fake being so magnificent all the time either. Being so brilliant, being so incredibly and indescribably him. He couldn’t fake that. He couldn’t. I always believed in him. But I won’t believe that.
I’m not alone. There others who won’t believe that he was is anything less than the world’s only consulting detective. We won’t hear what they say about him, won’t read it, won’t think of it.
His mind was everything to him. Knowing that he was brilliant, that he was clever, that he was sharp was what mattered. And we won’t let them take that away from him. We’ll guard the legacy of his mind, until he can come back and prove it for himself.
Because he’ll come back.
I know it.
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this is great
Simple and elegant. I like it. A lot.
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