Clark Taylor ran out onto the roof of the old warehouse. There was nowhere for him to go. He turned as a tall man emerged from the inside of the building.

"What do you want with me?"

"Don't you recognize me, Taylor?" the man said in a mocking tone.

He removed his hat as lightning flashed. Clark's eyes widened with fear.

"No."

Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft Holmes searched high and low in the pouring rain for Sherlock. Finally, someone mentioned the old warehouse, and they headed there right away.

As they approached they could make out two figures on the roof fighting. They made their way to the roof and stopped at what they saw.

Holmes and Clark were fighting like street thugs, both bruised and bleeding. Holmes, fueled by his rage and sorrow, seemed twenty years younger and was proving to be quite a match for the much younger Clark.

Clark delivered a strong uppercut to the detective's jaw. His teeth smashed together as he fell back. Wiping his mouth, he spat out a bit of blood and leapt back into the fight. He dealt a crushing blow to the side of Clark's head, knocking the younger man down. He pinned him and grasped his neck, choking him.

"You killed him! You killed him!"

Clark's face started to turn purple, and his eyes began to roll back.

"Sherlock, stop, you'll kill him!" Mycroft cried.

"He deserves it!"

Holmes tightened his grip.

"If you kill him, you'll be no better than he is. You'll be just like him."

The sleuth froze, released Clark, and backed away in horror. He fell to his knees and wept.

Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson, after making sure the police knew where to find Clark, took Holmes back to Baker Street. Soaked to the bone, he was placed in front of the fire.

After he was dry, warm, and had eaten, he went to bed. The next day he woke with a terrible fever. Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft did what they could to help him recover.

A few nights later, in the care of his brother and landlady, Sherlock Holmes died. People all around the world mourned the death of the famous sleuth. Many whom he had met and helped over the years attended the funeral.

Knowing it was what his brother would want, Mycroft ordered him to buried beside Watson instead of with their parents.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were gone, but they would not be forgotten. Generations would read the tales of their adventures and come to know the two greatest and most famous detectives in the world.