Sherlock Shorts

John was relieved. Halloween had passed without trauma. “Sherlock, you can take down that skeleton now. Oh, and have you seen Mrs Hudson?”

John moaned as Sherlock grasped him firmly from behind, thrusting harder and harder. Finally the piece of chicken flew from his throat.

Sherlock read the file. At last, a case! And a serial killer no less! John looked away. He'd do anything to keep Sherlock happy. Anything.

John opened the card. "Happy Valentine's Day, John. Love, Mary and Rosie" He looked at Sherlock, who avoided his eye. "Thank you."

"That creature, that rotting thing is a living breathing coagulation of human evil!" John nodded. "And millions of Americans voted for him"

Rosie kept staring at Mary. She smiled at her, pulling funny faces. How she wished John could still see her too.

Lady Smallwood frowned at Mycroft. "Great idea giving Moriarty 5 minutes unsupervised with her." Eurus screamed as another contraction hit.

Mary smiled. "Thank goodness the year of death is over!" Sherlock frowned. "Let's see what 2017 brings..." #Sherlock @BBCOne 8.30pm.

They watched as the clock ticked down. 10...9...8... "Happy new year" murmured Sherlock. John's answer was cut short by the explosion.

Sherlock smiled as he sent the message: "Happy New Year. SH". He received the usual "Ahhhhhhhh" sound in return. "New phone. Who dis?"

Sherlock and John pulled the cracker, laughing. The explosion ripped the building apart. "Ho Ho Ho" grinned Moriarty, across the road.

John cradled Rosamund in his arms, softly humming a lullaby. Sherlock watched, frowning. "Are you really going to keep that?"

"Did you miss me?" smirked Moriarty? Watson stared. "But you're dead..." Moriarty laughed. "Afraid not. Seems you're a bigamist, Mary."

Sherlock breathed heavily, his body straining for release. "One thrust John, and it'll be in. Do it! Yes!!" The tree fit through the door.

John and Sherlock stared as explosions lit up the sky. "Pretty" said Sherlock. John frowned, as firefighters worked to douse 221 Baker St.

Sherlock gave sweets to the little trick or treater. "Cute. Especially the tiny suit." As the front door closed, Moriarty was speechless.

John sighed as Sherlock tried on his Halloween costume. "Yes you look good, but it's really not appropriate to dress as my dead wife."

Mycroft stared down at the grave. "Goodbye, Sherlock. You'll be missed." "There's nothing for me here now John's gone" replied his brother.

Moriarty had Sherlock exactly where he wanted him. Alone. Without hope. Broken. Smirking, he leaned forward. "Mayfair. You owe me £200."