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Description
There is no easy way to explain how I felt
On the horrible day that you died.
You gave up our adventures, my friendship, your life
'Cause you just couldn't swallow your pride.

Did my emotions mean really so little to you,
How I'd feel when I saw that you fell?
I still can't quite believe, after all we've been through,
You took the coward's way to Heaven or Hell.

You were the best thing to ever happen to me,
And for that I'm eternally grateful,
But the terrible way that you reclaimed your gift
Was completely and utterly hateful.

I cared about you, you arrogant sod,
Probably more than you knew.
You saw everything, every secret exposed,
Though my feelings were one of the few.

We could have worked through this, found the proof, cleared your name,
There was nothing that we couldn't do.
It would have been worth it, the jeers, catcalls and shame
If it meant I could still be with you.

I died with you that day, at the foot of St. Bart's,
I haven't been me since the Fall.
Two-twenty-one B feels so empty without you;
Your experiments gone, no new holes in the wall.

I haven't gone into your room yet,
And I'm not sure that I ever will.
Sometimes I still see you- by the kitchen, the couch,
With your old violin by the windowsill.

You told me you weren't a hero.
You're not the sociopath people "know".
You were special, unique, something new altogether,
With a brilliance that just seemed to glow.

They try to tell me I was lied to,
That I was just a pawn in your game.
They expect me to move on, find a girl, settle down,
But it all seems so awfully tame.

You must have cared for me in some way,
Your flatmate, your partner, your friend.
Is it selfish to think, now that you're gone,
I too might contemplate my own end?

You made my life worth living again,
A debt I can never repay.
But now you're not here, and I miss you so much,
Life's splendor is slipping away.

There's nothing to stop me from believing in you,
No matter what people may say.
You were clever and brilliant and unbearably honest-
I'd trust you before them any day.

You were never a fake, nor fraud, nor freak,
But the greatest man I've ever known.
I want only one miracle, one more, just for me;
Please don't be dead, Sherlock... come home.

Description
There is no easy way to explain how I felt
On the horrible day that you died.
You gave up our adventures, my friendship, your life
'Cause you just couldn't swallow your pride.

Did my emotions mean really so little to you,
How I'd feel when I saw that you fell?
I still can't quite believe, after all we've been through,
You took the coward's way to Heaven or Hell.

You were the best thing to ever happen to me,
And for that I'm eternally grateful,
But the terrible way that you reclaimed your gift
Was completely and utterly hateful.

I cared about you, you arrogant sod,
Probably more than you knew.
You saw everything, every secret exposed,
Though my feelings were one of the few.

We could have worked through this, found the proof, cleared your name,
There was nothing that we couldn't do.
It would have been worth it, the jeers, catcalls and shame
If it meant I could still be with you.

I died with you that day, at the foot of St. Bart's,
I haven't been me since the Fall.
Two-twenty-one B feels so empty without you;
Your experiments gone, no new holes in the wall.

I haven't gone into your room yet,
And I'm not sure that I ever will.
Sometimes I still see you- by the kitchen, the couch,
With your old violin by the windowsill.

You told me you weren't a hero.
You're not the sociopath people "know".
You were special, unique, something new altogether,
With a brilliance that just seemed to glow.

They try to tell me I was lied to,
That I was just a pawn in your game.
They expect me to move on, find a girl, settle down,
But it all seems so awfully tame.

You must have cared for me in some way,
Your flatmate, your partner, your friend.
Is it selfish to think, now that you're gone,
I too might contemplate my own end?

You made my life worth living again,
A debt I can never repay.
But now you're not here, and I miss you so much,
Life's splendor is slipping away.

There's nothing to stop me from believing in you,
No matter what people may say.
You were clever and brilliant and unbearably honest-
I'd trust you before them any day.

You were never a fake, nor fraud, nor freak,
But the greatest man I've ever known.
I want only one miracle, one more, just for me;
Please don't be dead, Sherlock... come home.