"I couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. For three years I thought everyday would be my last. So many times I stared at my gun, the knife, the rope, the roof. But then I realized how stupid it would be for me to take my own life. So stupid because I knew you were alive. Out there. Somewhere. But you still never came. So I decided to look for a way to lure you back here. What better way than this?” John Watson smirked, knife in hand, a pile of dead bodies at his feet. "Welcome back, Sherlock.“