Five months to the day after his apparent death, Sherlock receives an unexpected letter.

(Yes I am part of the 'Moran is the sniper at the window' believers ;))

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Dear Sherlock Holmes,

I write this to you to express my admiration for your actions that I bore witness to a mere five months ago to this very day, though by the time you receive this letter it may well be late or intercepted. I do hope this reaches you without the interference of your over-bearing brother because this is really something that I feel we should keep between ourselves.

That day, Mr Holmes, I watched from a window as you stood with your arms outstretched on the roof of the hospital. I saw you fall, plummet through the air to meet the concrete beneath, and I saw the chaos and disorientation you caused amongst the public.

I watched in awe. Awe, sir, as you had cunningly outwitted them all. Your gentlemen friend on the roof, the one now missing a good portion of his skull, your gentlemen friend on the road below, your gentlemen friend in the police force, your landlady, your own brother, all of them. Duped, conspired against and deceived by you. The wondrous, the searingly intelligent Sherlock Holmes.

Congratulations are in order.

But, alas, there is always one anomaly. One who can see past all the smoke and mirrors.

You knew I was there that day - not I in particular but somebody. Somebody well armed and well trained, hired for the specific purpose of keeping a close watch on your dear friend Doctor Watson. That much was obvious, and a man of your skill and knowing was clearly going to be aware of the fact.

You are probably now also aware that I was hired by the madman you met on the roof, a one Mr James Moriarty. A madman, yes, and much too unhinged to succeed in his task but the payment he provided was more than generous. You can't succeed when you're insane, Mr Holmes. The mind is too far removed from reality to understand and tackle real, tangible concepts. For all his bluster and bravado, he over reached himself, he put himself in a position where he could be manipulated by yourself. And when I saw you conversing on the hospital roof, the outcome was inevitable. A logical, sound mind is ever more powerful than an insane one scarred by boredom.

I must admit, I have never met a man as psychotic as Mr Moriarty. I've seen my fair share of madness in war and combat, I've stood face to face with some of the most unhinged men on the planet, but no one has quite matched his thirst for destruction and disregard for life.

No, Mr Holmes, I feel that we are far more intellectually and morally suited for each other, than yourself and Mr Moriarty.

But why work for a man you hold in such contempt, I here you ask. Well, I'm sure you can understand that every man has his price. We may not have shared the same ideologies but we shared the same love of money.

I walked away after you fell to your apparent death. My duty was done, my money safe. He had instructed me to shoot Doctor Watson regardless of what you decided to do with yourself, but as you can hopefully appreciate, I left him well alone. There was no need to add a suspicious death to the two suicides, and getting myself out of there with my nose clean was my top priority.

In an odd way, I was rooting for you from my cramped window seat. The way you had turned the tables was admirable and ingenious, and as a soldier, I would have despised to have killed a fellow officer for something as apparently vapid as money.

But now five months have passed and I feel it's now time to show my hand. I've sat and twiddled my thumbs, carried out dull jobs for middling money in dank European cities with bizarre architecture and even more bizarre locals, and I feel now is the time for us to start our preliminary joust.

Mr Moriarty's games may have been those of bombast and fanfare but I am a fan of the more subtle fare.

You won't see me barging my way into the Tower of London or blowing up residential swimming pools. No, No. It's those quiet crimes, those that slip beneath the radar, the assaults, the minor burglaries, the occasional 'suicide' dragged out of the river, that you need to look out for.

Remember, I'm just like you Mr Holmes.

I am a ghost.

Yours sincerely,

Colonel M.

P.S. Your friend Doctor Watson seems to be doing reasonably well, though your gravestone is now looking a little sparse. See pictures enclosed.