Disclaimer: I own nothing, none of this is true.
Summary: Post-Reichenbach angst. John stops Sherlock from jumping. Warnings: Implied/Mentions of Character Death
Author's Note: Not a song fic, but based on the song "Don't Jump" by Tokio Hotel.
Don't Jump
He was stood on top of the roof. Sherlock was at the edge with his back to him. The air was cold, but so very still, the calm before the storm. He mouths Sherlock's name silently, he knows Sherlock won't want to hear it, won't want to be seen by him right now. The city continues on its meandering way down below, oblivious, indifferent to what is soon to happen. The eyes of the building opposite watch the tears that trail down Sherlock's face, counting each one as they fall. Each of the blank panes representing a promise of everything Sherlock never found, mocking them with the things that will never be. The sky darkens as the atmosphere changes. Sherlock's arms spread. He screams into the darkness, Sherlock's name finally spilling out into the air. It can't be true, not this time, not again. "Don't jump!" A white light seeps from the space in front of Sherlock, brightening as it spreads. He feels hope, running towards. If he can reach it, reach Sherlock, everything would be ok. As he approaches the light, he sees all the memories of their time together. The light is guiding him, helping him to remember, and helping him to save Sherlock. Time seemed to stop, the world below continued on out of view, blocked by the light. If only he could reach it! "No! Don't jump!" He was too late, Sherlock was gone. The light vanished. "Please, no." he sobbed desperately, staring into the abyss that Sherlock had fallen into. Leaning forward, he followed him.
Break.
John opened his eyes, he couldn't remember what for. He had nothing to live for anymore. He lay there, wishing he had never woken up. He could see the snow falling quietly through the gap in the curtains. John used to love the snow, the sweet purity of a new snowflake. Now it just reminded John of him. John had taught him the joys of snow. John had taught him a lot of things, just as he had taught John, taught him how to be alive. Now John couldn't continue without his presence, he could no longer feel joy, the pleasure of being alive. He had lost it somewhere out there like the snow that had been dirtied, tainted. John only had pain now, he was lost inside it. He wanted it all to end, he wanted to start all over again, to try again. He had to make it right, he just had to.
Break.
John stood on the roof of St. Barts. He stared down at the place where he had landed. Night had fallen some time ago, John had hardly noticed. He was angry. Angry and hurt, he had watched all the people going about their day, happy and problem free. Didn't they care? Had they already forgotten what had happened here? John couldn't forget, he refused to forget. It ran in a loop through his head, always. John held on to that last memory, he would never let it go.
A taxi pulled up in the road below, the headlights lighting up the area. John's body leaned towards it, wavering dangerously on the edge of the building. He heard a scream of his name. His immediate response was desperate, a painful reaction that he couldn't stop. "Sherlock?" His mind was deceiving him, trying to give him what he so desperately craved but instead only leading him to more disappointment.
The light hadn't been there as a guide to him, he only had his memories that would bring them together now. He glanced down at the world that he was now strangely distanced from. Maybe there was another way.
"Don't jump!" John spun around, his body was unprepared for the sudden movement, and his balance left him causing his body to waver, falling backwards.
A hand latched onto his, Lestrade. John was pulled up and away from the edge to safer ground. He felt numb, barely listening to anything Lestrade was saying to him. He stared over Lestrade's shoulder at the edge of the roof. Another way.
Break.
People were talking at him, a giant mess of half sentences registered in his mind before he shook them away. John didn't want to listen to their lectures, their platitudes, he didn't want to see their pity. They thought they understood. They had no idea.
"John, you have to stay strong." He looked up at Molly. She gave him an encouraging smile. Strong. Nothing about him was strong anymore. He didn't know how long he could hold on, there was no strength left in him to keep going on anymore.
Break.
It was dark, the night was quiet, waiting patiently to claim its prize. He walked towards Sherlock who stood at the edge, ready, waiting. "Just take my hand, give it one more chance. Don't jump." he pleaded with a hopeful smile, taking the hand that Sherlock held outstretched. "I have to, John." John's smile turned sad. "No you don't, you can sort this situation out, you can bring down Moriarty, bring down the rest of the web. You are not a fraud. I believe in you, I believe in Sherlock Holmes. I know you can do this." They both watched as a light appeared in the distance, growing bigger and brighter. "The light will not guide you, Sherlock, it will only deceive you. Don't let the memories of me and you go, hold them in your heart forever, for me, Sherlock, please." "John, what?" Sherlock looked away from the light, dropping his gaze to meet John's. "I cannot hold myself strong, but I can hold you, give it a chance, if not for yourself, then for me, for all the people that would suffer because of your decision." Sherlock looked away with a frown. "I am not accusing you, Sherlock, I know you did it for a good reason, but now I'm giving you an alternative. Take it." "John, I can't." "You can, but if all that won't hold you back, I'll take the decision out of your hands. I know you won't let me down. Remember me, John Watson, the man who believed." With one last squeeze, he dropped Sherlock's hand and took that last step. He fell forwards into the light. "No!" Sherlock reached for him, but he was too late. The light flared a blinding white before disappearing, taking John with it into the darkness. "I'll jump for you."