End of Sherlock Holmes by Hideaki Anno

"Ah but you miss the point, my dear Watson," exclaimed the thin man pacing nervously.  
"It all ties together you see.  The plot to bomb Big Ben, the shopkeeper with the German 
accent.."

"...the odd blue discolouration of the Thames!" I interjected, realisation dawning on me.

Holmes stopped to tamp the tobacco in his pipe before lighting it.  Blue curls of smoke 
wafted around us as the embers glowed.

"Precisely.  And of course there were the details you missed."

I winced internally.  There were always details I had missed.  Holmes never failed to astound me.  
He continued, "For you see the telegram from the convent was actually done with a pneumatic 
machine of the variety only found in Dorcetshire.  And if you'll kindly  look at the smudges on 
the seal, " the detective handed the paper to me gingerly.  I examined them.  Sure enough, 
those smudges I had disregarded as faint blemishes were in fact tell-tale fingerprints.  From this 
it would be possible to determine just who the mastermind behind all this was.

So many elements had been introduced.  The improbable murders, the involvement of Her Majesty's 
government, the odd gemstone which had Holmes so intrigued.  I looked to Holmes, waiting for him to 
utter a magic string of words which would tie all of these loose ends together.

A loud boom brought me out of my revery.  With instincts learned in Afghanistan, but mindful of 
my wound, I hurried apace to the window.  In shock, I dropped my stethescope.  The clatter of glass 
behind me told of the untimely demise by gravity of my friend's heroin ampoule.

Through the window I could see, climbing towards the heavens, was a gigantic nude and translucent girl.  
I watched, horrified, as the townsfolk of London burst one-by-one in a torrent of orange miasma.  
As the tide of death raced for me, I heard Holmes utter, 

"Bugger."

finis