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He hadn’t thought this would happen when he started his plan, he really didn’t. Work had been getting to him, sure, but it didn’t seem this bad. He heard laughing sometimes, that’s what inspired the killer clown idea. He hadn’t planned on actually hurting anybody, he just wanted some of the circus folk to play along. It was just supposed to be a little fake mystery, to bring Sherlock Holms back.
But there was a little voice in the back of his head, telling him to take it further and further. And he started blacking out around the house. Blinking and ending up in another room. Or outside. Or just holding a knife from the kitchen. And the voice started to get louder, developed a bit more of a personality.
It wanted Sherlock back more than he did. It just wanted Sherlock more than he did. It spoke of Sherlock as if he were a lover. He knew he wasn’t. He wished he was. Maybe then it wouldn’t have kept getting louder. Maybe he wouldn’t have started talking to it when he was alone. Maybe he would have told someone before it was too late. Maybe there wouldn't have been a murder.
He had blacked out on the way to the circus to discuss his plan with them, it was fine, he was used to it at that point. When he came back in he was in a small circus tent, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
His face was covered in white grease paint, with some red smeared over his eyes in two vertical lines. He wiped it off and decided to head home, figuring he could discuss it some other time. He didn’t know what he had done until he read the paper the next morning. He didn’t even know he had the strength to snap someone’s neck.
He started losing control after that. That’s how they ended up standing over a body in the big top next to Sherlock. He was desperately fighting to stay as it tried to use their body. Laughing turned to sobbing and back as he tried to not lose himself. He couldn’t do that in front of him.
They both loved him. It loved him to an obsessive degree. Maybe he did too, with how much he thought of him. Maybe that’s why he looked back when the gun went off. Maybe that’s why he was smiling as it hit him.