A/N: I do not own BBC Sherlock

's Hospital. 2012.

My mind is whirring with all the things that had happened the past twenty-four hours. In twenty-four hours, we turned from detective and blogger to fraud and criminal. That wasn't the worst part. I knew Moriarty wouldn't rest until he destroyed Sherlock, until he burns the heart out of Sherlock. And he has. He had destroyed everything what Sherlock most held dear, his work. And now, it is only a matter of time till he tries to kill…no, I would never, never ever let that happen. We wait, for Moriarty's next move.

Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.

No. No way. There was no way Sherlock would have ever done that. There are many things I don't understand about Sherlock, but him faking crimes? Sherlock Holmes was a man of many things, but not a fraud. Never a fraud. He was too good a person. He pushed people away because all they ever did was hurt him. Not many people like to admit there's a smarter, better person than them. But, I knew better. There's a reason why he wanted to be a detective. He liked to help people, despite what Mycroft said. I saw his face and for the first and the last time, I saw him looking confused, not able to comprehend what was going to happen next. I knew why. This time he couldn't use logic. He didn't know if I was going to believe him or Moriarty. Logic didn't apply on emotions and beliefs. Oh, Sherlock, how I longed to hold you and tell you this "No matter what Moriarty does, no matter what he cooks up next, even if the entire world believes it, I'll always stay true to you, Sherlock Holmes. Because, I believe in Sherlock Holmes"

Do you know what Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you…and you repel me

My heart breaks, looking at the desperate reporter. If that article came out, this would how people would talk to Sherlock. We had to make this right.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I'm rushing against time. To stop. Ready to kill. Ready to die for the man I loved. My heart is pounding, knowing that I've left Sherlock when he needed me the most. I should have known that the phone call was a fake. There was a reason why Sherlock didn't get worked up on it. I rush to Bart's praying that he's still alive. My phone rings.

John.

I'm relieved beyond measure. I say a small thank you to the world.

Just do as I ask. Please.

There was something wrong. Something very wrong with Sherlock's voice. He sounded vulnerable, for the first time, he sounded human, when I didn't need him to!

An apology. It's all true.

What? Why? What? Sherlock, what happened? Why are you doing this? Why are you lying to me? We both know that's not true.

It's a trick. Just a magic trick.

My blood is boiling right now. I'm angry at Sherlock. Angry at him for giving in. Angry at him for even thinking that I would believe what he was saying. Angry that, clever as he was, he never would realize…that I loved him.

If you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?

Goodbye John.

I realized what he was going to do. I yell like an animal. But too late, he has already jumped. The world goes blank to me. I can no longer see, no longer hear, no longer feel. My mind is frizzled right now. I cannot comprehend anything. Sherlock…gone? How? It was impossible. I was ready to take a bullet for him, but now? There was no way Sherlock…no, he might still be alive. The thought kick-starts my brain and I rush towards Sherlock.

I see his body, a crumpled mess of what is my world. The blood is everywhere and I rush to check his pulse. I wait. No pulse. I wait. Still no pulse. I'm ready to hold his hand until his heart beats again or mine stops. I wait. I wait until they pull me away from my one true love. I can't leave him. I can't. My entire world has collapsed. Both my legs hurt this time but I hardly feel the pain. I feel numb, there's only one thought in my head: How do I get Sherlock back?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

There's stuff that you wanted to say….but didn't say it.

Ella was wrong about many things about me. But this time, her words hit home. Of course, there was stuff I wanted to say. How I secretly like his hair, how I liked making him behave and he sulked like a cute kid, how I loved his unpredictability. How I loved fighting alongside him. His deductions would never stop surprising me. I loved him for trying to stay away from drugs. Just for me. And of course, the main thing: That I loved him and cared about him.

It really bothers you? What people say. About me. I don't understand. Why would it upset you?

He gave me thousands of chances to tell him that I loved him. The coward I was, I never did tell him. The society, my parents..how stupid it all seems now. I love you, Sherlock Holmes, I love you with all my heart. You've brought a broken shell of a man back to life. I was a crumpled mess, a mess no one wanted. You've resuscitated me. And, of course, I still believe in you. Always have, always will. I love you, Sherlock William Scott Holmes. Will you do me the honor of being my husband after death?"

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I wake up and there's darkness all around. I smell alcohol. Of course, I am in a hospital. Mrs. Hudson must have found me. I try to get up, but can't. They've tied me down. The lights flick on. And, in front of me, I see Sherlock. Standing. Looking at me. He looked like he hadn't slept for weeks. Sherlock's alive? My heart monitor beeps like crazy. I try talking but I have an oxygen mask on my mouth.

"I've read it John. The Reichenbach Fall, you called it?" he says, in his low baritone. My heart skips a beat and he could see that on the monitor. Here I was in a hospital, feeling like rubbish and the man I loved is going to tell me he could never love me that way.

He continues:

"I don't have a lot of time and I've a lot of apologies to make. First, I'm sorry. I had to do what I had to do. Second, I am sorry for this. Sorry, for putting you through all this. Please don't. Despite what you think John, I love you. I always have and always will. Please don't do this to yourself. Please wait. Three more years. Just three more years. I promise you, John, I swear it upon my love for you, I will come back. I will come back. Please wait"

He loved me? Sherlock Married-to-my-work Holmes loves me? Oh, Sherlock, I'll wait for you for a thousand years if you wanted me to.

"And, John? I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could have the misfortune to meet. But, you've changed that John. Changed me. You've taught me to hope. Hope that I will be loved by someone for pure and unselfish reasons. Hope that I'll always have someone by me when I need them the most. You've made me the man I am today. You've saved me so many times and in so many ways that you'll never even comprehend. It's been one hell of a ride John, of mystery, murder and mayhem. And I look forward to doing that after the next three years"

"So, John", he says kneeling in front of me, "Would you do me the honor of marrying me after three years?". His beautiful eyes burn with love. He looked a mess, bloodied cloak and blood matted to his hair. But, he never looked more beautiful to me.

I nod. My eyes are filled with tears. I'm just happy he's still alive. Happy that I did say all those things which I regretted not saying. Sherlock pulls out a plain platinum ring out of his coat and slips it on my finger. It looked beautiful. It feels wonderful. Precious, just like Sherlock. Cold, just like Sherlock felt like in the beginning, but John's warmth would soon warm the ring. However, I couldn't see the ring on my fingers which I longed to because my head was also tied down. However, I looked at Sherlock, trying to memorize him. I imprint this memory in my head forever. He kisses my palm. He kisses my forehead. And, then, he's moving away. I start moving, trying to get out of my bed. He whispers in my ear,

"Sleep, now. You need the rest" and he increases my morphine.

My eyes close against my will and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"John dear, you need to wake up now. John"

I hear Mrs. Hudson's voice cutting through my sleep. I wake up with a jolt, remembering the events of yesterday. I still have the oxygen mask, but I try to show her my tied hands. She seemed surprised with my jovial mood and I don't blame her.

"John, I'm glad you are feeling better now, my dear. You know, I love Sherlock too. But, we can't bring back the dead John. We can only join them" she said. "But only, at the right time" she added, sternly, removing my oxygen mask.

"Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock's not dead! He just proposed to me the previous night. Look at my hand!"

She looked at my hand but then her face becomes sadder than ever.

"John" she said in a low voice. "There is no ring. Are you alright, dear?"

I try to feel my fingers and yes, Mrs. Hudson was right. There was no ring.

A/N: This is supposed to a one-shot. But, if anyone wants me to continue it, just PM or review and I will! Please ask, I would love to continue this fic! It'll be canon compliant, but still Johnlock. I know, right? I'm excited too!