Empty House: A Fable by John Watson (1/34ish)
Another WIP. I must be a masochist.
A/N: This story is actually meant to appear in blog form. So it does-
JW's Blog
for a full explanation as to why see the masterpost.
The Prologue
My name is John Watson and I need to tell you a story.
I'm not as mad as they say I am. I'm not mad. And let me just say that, if people would listen to their fairy tales, if people would listen at all, it wouldn't seem so impossible.
The hero always returns. And my friend, Sherlock Holmes, for all his flaws, for all his insistences otherwise, was a hero. He didn’t just die to keep his friends safe, he let the whole world think he was the villain in order to bring down the greatest evil of our time. He was willing to go down in history as the bad guy, he was willing to be immortal, to be remembered forever as Sherlock Holmes the fraud, Sherlock Holmes the liar, just to put that bullet in Moriarty’s head. He jumped off a roof thinking he’d successfully fooled the one friend he had in the world into believing the propaganda.
I was pissed for a long time that he even tried to make me hate him.
Stories are unbelievably powerful things, if you can get people to listen to them. But I have to put the record straight somewhere. The problem is that this is a fairytale and people stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.
So I won’t ask you to suspend your disbelief. I won’t even ask you to take me at my word. All I ask is this-and I’m not, it seems, even the first to ask it:
Believe.
Believe in Sherlock Holmes.
1: The Spider