Prove me wrong, ordinary Sherlock. Prove that you’re not like them. I want you to prove that you know the truth, thatwe are one and the same, in both life and in death. Prove that you’re not ordinary, convince me.
I know you’re dead. I know you’re only human. I’ve always known that, even when it seemed like you didn’t.
And I know you’re never coming back.
Because these are facts and they can’t be changed, and I know that. But I don’t believe it. Because there’s a difference between knowing and believing.
I know you’re dead, Sherlock. But I don’t believe it.
I believe in you, and I will wait for you.
I’m not invincible. I’m only human. But you know that. Obviously.
In fact…you always knew that.
Even before I did.
We were destined to play this game together, Sherlock. Let’s do this forever and ever and ever. Nothing can stop us, not even death. Because we’re not normal, we’re not ordinary. We are each other. Only I’m the man that you could have become.
It surprised me, actually. When I thought about it later. He could have used his last few breaths for anyone, but he chose to use them for me. His last word was my name.
Sometimes I wonder if my last word will be his.
I see people when they’re sad. Maybe it’s because most people don’t really notice me very often. I don’t really count to them, so it’s safe for them to look sad around me. I see it all the time, and it makes me wonder if I ever look that way. Sad and lonely and…scared. But I realize that it doesn’t really matter. No one can see me.
The limp came back. I don’t care about everyone else pitying me for it. I just know that if he could see me now, it would make him furious. And I can’t stand that.
(submitted by armydoctorpeterpotter)