As On A Darkling Plain
“You and me, and our problem” John pauses, and Sherlock can hear the way he swallows, the connection all too clear: “The final problem.”
Gottle o’ geer...gottle o’ geer...gottle o’ geer. The echoes of the past ricochet indefinite inside Sherlock’s skull, and down as they give way to the present, as he stares up at the rooftop, at John.
Oh. Oh, no.
Sherlock's greatest fear isn't one that he can face.