When John Watson was a child, whenever he wanted to do things that all his friends were doing Mrs. Watson always asked "If all of your friends jumped off of a building, would you do it too?"
He would always reply with a simple "no, m'am" and walk away pouting because he knew that he couldn't do what he wanted. Now he was seriously considering it.
Ever since, what he started referring to as, "the fall" that was all he could think about. He would sit in that chair that Sherlock loved so much, or on the couch that Sherlock would always mope on, and think of that. He would think of his childhood when his mother would ask that question. He knew that she already knew what he was going to say, but he would say it anyway. He also knew that if his mother were to ask him that question today, and that if he were to answer in complete honesty, he would say yes. He would be perfectly willing to follow his best friend off of the edge of that building, willing to follow him to his death.
He decided to visit Sherlock's grave the morning before he actually did it. He couldn't do it without visiting his friend in the 'real' world before they were together forever.
He walked to the grave he had visited many times before. He stood gazing at the headstone scanning his eyes over the name, the inscription, and the dates. He gave a sad smile. It had been three years exactly that he had gone without his best friend. The pain and longing hadn't lessened from that of the first day.
"Sherlock," he said, speaking to the grave. "I remember at one point asking you not to be dead, to give me one more miracle, but I know that you can't do that. I decided that I would have the next best thing. I'm going to join you. We can be together forever…" he trailed off as tears came to his eyes.
What he didn't know was that his friend had returned. Sherlock was concealed in the trees just like he was the first time John had visited the grave, his grave. He remembered the words John had spoken that day. Tears were welling up in the tall man's eyes over the realization of what his friend was planning to do. He knew he had to stop him. What he didn't know as how.
John was walking away from the grave; walking away from his friend. Each step drawing him closer to his death, closer to the end.
Tell me if you guys want more because I'm kinda just testing the waters with Sherlock fiction here… review?