Just adding on to the movement. :)

The first time Sherlock saw it, he stopped dead in his tracks. It didn't matter that he was following a lead or that it was sprinkling freezing cold rain drops. He saw it and stopped, shock lighting up every inch of his face.

I believe in Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock stared at the words and felt the strangest sensation, as if he was being filled with helium and gravity was letting him go. He stepped forward and ran his fingers over the words, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. The words were spray painted haphazardly over a brick wall in neon yellow and the color touched something in his mind. He realized, after a second of recollection, that it was the Blind Banker case spray paint—the very same that he and John possessed in the flat. Looking closer, Sherlock recognized that the unmistakably even, neat print was that of none other than John Watson.

Dragging his gaze away from the yellow, he focused on the criss-crossed, overlapping graffiti below it.

Jim Moriarty was REAL!


I believe in SH!

Richard Brook is the fraud!

We need Sherlock!

For a moment, words failed him. Sherlock chuckled in soft surprise and touched the glowing letters once more. They felt warm under his fingertips.

"You have me," he said out loud, his words only a breath louder than the rain. He dropped his hand and stepped away, pulling out his phone. He snapped a quick picture: the quality was low and grainy, but when he looked at it that same warmth seemed to radiate up at him. He knew in that moment that he was not alone in this. They believed in him and that made the rain a little drier and the night a little less lonely.

Sherlock smiled to himself and, putting away his phone with a last look at the wall, continued on his way.

It was all fine.