It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.
Goodbye John.
It had been six months since that day. That day when everything in his life had fallen, not just metaphorically.
He'd been to his therapist. Nothing helped numb the pain. He had no-one to turn to. Mrs Hudson had tried to help him. She'd offered him more tea than he'd ever drunk in his life. It hadn't helped. After a month he was too overwhelmed, he left Baker Street. After talking to his sister she agreed to move in with him. They rented a flat a few blocks away from Baker Street, it didn't seem right. It had been years since he'd lived with his sister, let alone a girl. She'd tried to help him, he wasn't having any of it. All he'd done for days upon days, weeks upon weeks, months upon months was sleep, wrapped in an old silky blue dressing gown that was beginning to look worn. On numerous occasion his sister had offered to wash it for him, but he wouldn't let her. It was the only thing he'd bought to the new flat from then. It was already losing it's scent but he knew that to wash it would destroy it entirely. He'd drunk tea on occasions, when his sister had offered, but it didn't taste the same - it hadn't be made in the right place with the right person.
It had been six months and nothing. He would've known what to do, but he'd left him. He'd been right - friends don't protect people. Otherwise he would've been sitting there and wouldn't have gone. He would've been protected.
I should've protected him.
His limp had returned, so as he made for the stairs having changed he grabbed his crutch before hobbling down the stairs. He'd left a note on the table for his sister.
Gone for a walk. Can you pick up some milk if you go to the shops? John.
He hobbled into the road and out his arm out calling for a taxi, just like He used to do. As the taxi pulled up beside him he hauled his leg in behind him as he recited the address he hadn't said for six months. The taxi stopped short of the entrance as he handed over the money and made his way to the doors. Once inside he headed to the main stairwell and tried to avoid eye contact with as few people as possible. The lift was probably working he thought as he slowly made his way up the stairs, but he felt it's what He would've done so continued upwards. He reached the rooftop. He thought back to that day. It was the first time since then that he allowed himself to think about it properly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and thought about how the roles had been reversed.
The dial tone rang a couple of times before going through to voicemail.
"Here we are. Again. I guess this is sort of what it felt like for you. Preparing yourself. I guess you'd be more organised about it. Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing - like this. Except you were different. You had someone to leave behind. I have no-one to leave behind now. The only person I could've ever left behind left me behind. I wonder what it was like for you. Were you as rational as you always were? But honestly what was it like to leave someone behind? Did it affect you? Did you think how it would affect me? I guess I'll find out soon. I don't have to worry about any of that, I don't have to wonder about how it will affect them - there is no them. I'm strong enough to do this now. So I can see you again. I heard somewhere, falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination. It's true I guess there is a permanent destination, and for me it's with you. Goodbye."
