It would haunt him for years. The last image he saw of the damned genius that had made his way in the doctor's life and helped him get the adrenaline back into his life.

Ironic. How the same detective had truly died what seemed like such a short while ago. And all the doctor had needed to do was give him a shot of adrenaline. The very thing that had saved Watson from misery saved Holmes from the gate of Death.

It was all that accursed shoulder. That was the only obstacle stopping Holmes from overcoming his adversary. That accursed shoulder from the tortuous hook from which the great man had hung. And now both were gone. The fisherman and the fish. But it was no longer clear who was whom.

The last time that he knew he would see his greatest companion for the rest of eternity had just happened a moment ago. It was not able to sink in. Holmes had basically just commited suicide. Why? He had saved the world from the deadliest of enemies, but the cost of his life. And with that, Watson's complete happiness.

All he had gotten was one last look. After all those years solving mysteries together, all he had received from his friend was one last glance. Only a moment. That was the last memory of their bond.

It was clear that Watson was not supposed to see that last act of heroism from the man. Holmes was supposed to just disappear from the face of the earth with no evidence remaining to tell where. No loose ends.

But that was the one thing that had not gone to plan. The one thing that the genius of a man had not accounted for. He did not expect Watson. He did not expect to have one last look of him.

He did not expect to see the hurt in those eyes. The betrayal. The sadness. And the hint of anger.

Watson truly didn't remember what happened after seeing the one last search of his best friend's; nay, brother's had closed his eyes. Someone led him out. He was laid in bed. He didn't sleep. And soon enough, it was the funeral.

He didn't say anything there. It seemed too anticlimactic of an end for a man of such proportions. There was no way he would've settled for this. He wouldn't want this.

Or would he?

Watson now was sure that he didn't know the man as well as he had thought. After all, he had believed that they would be by each other's sides forever. Always there. He never believed that Holmes would just choose to leave. No. He never imagined Holmes just purposely ending his life like that.

He had the completely wrong idea of one of the closest people to him. He had never imagined that would happen. Maybe he had the wrong idea of everything. If he had had the wrong idea of the man he had known for such a large number of years of his life and been so close to him, maybe he had the wrong idea of a lot of things.

It seemed like such a short while ago that they had been on the train to Brighton, Watson not knowing Holmes was had come specifically to protect him, and all he did was yell at him and try to strangle him for protecting his new wife.

There had been so many missed moments that Watson should have savored. All those adventures that he had taken for granted. All those talks, arguments, laughter. How could he even believed that they would last forever? Nothing did. He of all people should know.

The doctor was now left to sitting in his office day and night, writing books to retell the tales of their mysteries. It was the only thing that could even begin to bring back the memories. To ease the pain of the present by getting absorbed in the past seemed the best method.

It didn't work.

O.O.O.O.O

Dear god, I am obsessed with both Sherlock Holmes 2 and writing angst lately. I actually have another Game of Shadows story I will probably post tomorrow. I am obsessed.

Reviews are always appreciated!~