Oh my god. Just, oh my god.
I secretly thought there was no possible way this could live up to the buildup in my head. And then it did. Wow. They... just, everybody was impressive as all hell here. Tense and desperate and complicated. And Molly, oh god, Molly. Yes.
Sherlock knows it's over all along, and John never wavers in his faith, and the letter isn't a letter because they somehow found a way to make it even more gutting. God. Martin Freeman, you guys. Martin fucking Freeman.
More later, right? After I scrape my heart and jaw off the floor.