The cold-hearted detective once declared,
“Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.”
His joys and woes were never shared,
After all those years of mulish solitary.
But a certain doctor came to be his flatmate,
Who equally craved the hunting of villains.
So when coppers are left to irate,
Both blokes run around solving these missions.
From having to tolerate violent violin playing,
And saving the other from being burned,
To become one’s best man at his wedding:
A long-lasting, inseparable bond is formed.
Then, when both men are about to depart,
And all the memories have been good and fun,
Sherlock looks at John and assert,
“I don’t have friends; I’ve just got one.”
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