*John's Death 2* Re Edited for Guest, and Syzygy.

Sherlock used to play Cluedo really happily with me, drank tea with me. But today was a little eerie. He wanted me to go out. But before that, we were drinking our morning mocha, and eating our breakfast, the usual, bacon and eggs by Mrs Hudson. Such a caring housekeeper, I thought when I first met Sherlock.

Anyways, back to the point. Sherlock went to shower while I sat down at a sofa thinking of reasons and reasons why he would want me to go out with him. I tried racking my brains, but there isn't any reason that could fit my criteria. Neither would he go out for a walk as he loves to solve crimes and shout at everyone that they are so stupid, or either they can't think like him.

"John, here is something I never shown you for an couple of months since my last visit to the doctors." Sherlock whispered. I took the envelope and comes out a sheet of paper stapled to the doctor's name card. Turns out that the first sheet of paper was an report of Sherlock's photo, and then I read carefully, and something struck me real bad.

'Mr Sherlock Holmes has Crohn's disease.' I placed my eyes closely to the word CROHN and the word DISEASE. I stared at Sherlock. "… Sherlock.. Are you… lying?" I uttered softly, my face slowly turning pale. "No.. I'm not." Sherlock said, taking the report back from my hands. I broke into a cold sweat, breathing faster than usual. I placed my hands on Sherlock's hands. "Can we fix this disease?" I asked, looking sad. "No John." He wanted to bent down to give me a little kiss on my cheek, but I pushed him away. "Tell me, Sherlock. What can I do to cure your disease?" I replied, and he sighed. He shook his head and went to get his coat from his bedroom.

Once he came out, he asked, "Can we go out, John?" "Sure." I get in the car with Sherlock. "Where do you want to go?" I ask.

"Deserted valley near Saint Bartholomew's Hospital," he replies. I'm confused, but I shake it off and I drive both of us there.

"No one goes into the valley at this time…" I comment quietly as we arrive. "What do you want to do here, Sherlock?"

He takes a deep breath before replying, "I want to end it here."

It takes me a moment or two before I can process his words. 'End it here…'

"End what?" I ask trepidatiously.

"My life." It hits me a ton of bricks, and I seem to have lost the ability to think clearly.

"A-are you serious, Sherlock?!" I stammer, "You're living perfectly fine!" My eyes widen in horror as Sherlock reaches into his coat and pulls out a sawed-off shotgun. My shot gun.

"You have a choice: either I die or you die." he points the weapon to his temple, and I can already see the Jacksok Pollock artwork of blood coloring the car's interior. It's not a thought I want to continue entertaining.

"Sherlock, calm down," I say. I'm paralysed with fear on the inside, but I- it's insane. But I can't let my best friend slip through my fingers. I need to help him, save him, no matter what the cost. Even if… "I'll do it."

"What?"

"Shoot me," I command, "Do it." As he points the gun at my forehead without hesitation, I feel betrayed. 'How selfish,' I thought to myself. 'After all we've been through -' My thoughts are cut short as I hear the familiar bang of a gunshot resonating through the car.