Watson felt like a part of him was being ripped out and dying as he watched Sherlock fall from the building. It was like watching it in slow motion; he could feel his heart beat, it felt like it was going to explode, or just quit beating all together. He couldn't breathe, he wanted to run to his friend; but every step felt like he was walking through lead. Then everything went silent. People were running around him, he was in a crowd of people, in the middle of a busy city street, but there was no sound at all.
As Sherlock Holmes hit the ground, all he wanted to do was push all these people out of the way, and be with his friend; it was like his worst nightmare come true, looking at his friend on the ground. He half knelt, half fell to the side of his friend, grabbing for his wrist, he silently prayed, "Please GOD let there be a pulse", but, there wasn't any, falling face down into the pavement, how could there be one? Watson's head was spinning, he was trying to think, his brain was screaming, he was trying to make sense of it, something was wrong, this was wrong, everything was wrong. So totally wrong, Wrong, WRONG!
Watson sat back onto the ground, everything was reeling around him, people pushing in from all sides, he needed to get away from all of this, awaken somehow from this horrible nightmare. He tried to get up, and stumbles, his legs are weak, but, finally, somehow, he forces them to work. Completely, and emotionally shattered from the scene, he stumbles down the street. This is all wrong, why Sherlock, why? Why? WHY?
Something was nagging at his brain, but he couldn't focus. His one true friend, dead, right before his eyes; he couldn't do anything to prevent it, couldn't stop it, he felt hopeless, lost, and alone, oh so very alone. In his hurt and in his hopelessly lost feelings, he walked in a daze; he didn't know how long he walked, where he went, or how he got home, or when he started drinking, or when he stopped drinking, or when he went to the funeral. When he came back to his senses, he was just looking down at Sherlock's grave, praying that this nightmare would end. Calling out to GOD, or anyone else that could hear, "Please don't let him be dead. Sherlock you have lived through so much more than this, let this time be one of them."
He half hoped for Sherlock to come out of hiding and reprimand him, say ing, "You are a fool to think me dead". But no, here he was standing at his grave, Sherlock's body buried in the earth. But there is an ache pounding at the back of his head, he had to focus now. Make some sort of sense of this, before he lost his senses. Find out why this happened; surely Sherlock wouldn't take his own life, not without having to do so, but, why?
So, what is he missing? The only way to figure this out would be to think like Sherlock.. Back up, check the facts; what did he know?
Fact one: He saw his friend fall from the building. What made him do it? His friend... His heart seems to have trouble taking each beat; how will he live without a man who changed his life so much in such a short amount of time? He starts to loose himself in grief again. Snap out of it man, time for facts. Be like Sherlock; no emotion, just facts.
Okay. Fact two: Cause of death. Fall from the building, landing face first into the pavement. Which caused skull fractures, and brain contusions, causing damage to the sagittal midline, lateral, and base areas of the brain. Resulting in brain hemorrhage and death.
Fact Three: Watson himself felt Sherlock's pulse. He was stone cold dead.
As he went through the facts in his head, he stops suddenly, and gasps, "HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO BLIND?"