[Hunting them all down hadn't been easy. It wasn't that he wasn't used to the blood on his hands- he was, in the most regrettable way imaginable. It had to be done, though. Yes, it... it had to be done. And it was only right for him to be the one to do it. Otherwise, they might've...
He doesn't want to imagine what could have happened. It wasn't easy to blend in, to fake it, to move his way up the ranks and finally finish off the man himself. He'd been a nutter- seriously, the craziest psychopath John has ever encountered. Not to mention the many arms in his organization that kept themselves mostly secret, mostly hidden.
At long last, it was done. He could go home. More than anything, he just wanted... to go home.
Mrs. Hudson nearly had a heart attack. It took her nearly two hours to explain everything- how he was assumed to be dead, that the funeral had been a lovely service. How Sherlock had been. He'd asked if she knew where the man in question was. 'I expect so, dear...'
Which is how he ended up at a graveyard in the fading light of a sunday evening, staring at his flatmate's back quietly.
Sure!
He doesn't want to imagine what could have happened. It wasn't easy to blend in, to fake it, to move his way up the ranks and finally finish off the man himself. He'd been a nutter- seriously, the craziest psychopath John has ever encountered. Not to mention the many arms in his organization that kept themselves mostly secret, mostly hidden.
At long last, it was done. He could go home. More than anything, he just wanted... to go home.
Mrs. Hudson nearly had a heart attack. It took her nearly two hours to explain everything- how he was assumed to be dead, that the funeral had been a lovely service. How Sherlock had been. He'd asked if she knew where the man in question was. 'I expect so, dear...'
Which is how he ended up at a graveyard in the fading light of a sunday evening, staring at his flatmate's back quietly.
Because he hadn't really expected... this.]