Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock, Moriarty, John, Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, nor anyone or anything else mentioned in this poem.
Set during and after the Reichenbach Fall.
The game is on, the board is set, the fairy-tale has begun,
The players stand in readiness, the challenge sent, the gauntlet thrown.
The stage—reluctant hero's showdown with his villain, self-declared:
Two Kings, all else eliminated, plans untold and wills prepared.
Black Pawns their parts fulfilled unknowingly, so smug and undismayed,
The friend and mentor's hand was forced to niggling doubts and trust betrayed.
The false but dreadful news of one they loved brought care and disbelief
And so the faithful sidekick left with parting words of scorn and grief.
The Black King taunts, cajoles, and threatens—in his grip the King is Dead;
The White King sees a chance and laughs, till madman's shot and mounting dread.
His machinations hold: though captain's dead the soldiers yet can move;
So King for pieces falls with hero's dive, swan-song of burning love.
White Pawns, with plans well laid, change plunging angel's fate from fall to fly,
A loyal help-meet steels her heart to craft a necessary lie.
The White Queen, wielding power, helps his brother's ghost to disappear;
His task—take down the demon's web, come lonely pain or desperate fear.
And home? The world scoffs, derides the hero as a deadly fraud,
His suicide is mocked, his gainful work deemed fake as they applaud.
His friends all mourn in hopeless, guilty thoughts of what they could have done
To save his life, not lose the game that seemed by wanton villain won.
Yet still he lives to battle shadows, hidden war from secret base,
And one day he'll return, at last victorious, to his rightful place.