Only Human
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.
Author's note: This is a one-shot ad a sad one. Please review, thank you!
John was sat in a room with a doctor opposite him in St Bart's.
Sherlock was just downstairs, just a few floors away. They were going to take him down to see him soon. Apparently Lestrade, Donavon, Mrs Hudson, Molly and Mycroft would be here soon too.
John felt numb. Completely numb except for one thing. He felt pain all over. It was odd, to feel so numb and empty, yet hurting.
He couldn't seem to think properly.
He had seen Sherlock fall. He had seen him bleeding over the pavement. He had seen his best friend die. But he couldn't accept it. Everything and everyone was telling him that Sherlock was dead, but, he just couldn't even begin to accept or understand it.
"Doctor Watson, you can see the body now. You don't have to. And I must warn you that he hasn't been cleaned up yet." His doctor said.
John didn't respond he just stood up and let the doctor lead him downstairs.
John hadn't been aware of it but he had been standing at a door for a few moments. The doctor cleared his throat "Dr Watson, you may go in now."
John put his hand on the handle and he opened the door.
The doctor stood at the window to keep an eye on John.
John stared at Sherlock's body.
His consulting Detective still wore his big coat and the blood still stained his pale face.
John felt himself moving forward until he stood beside Sherlock's bed. He put his hand on Sherlock's cheek and the grief was too overwhelming and he felt tears streaming down his face.
Lestrade had picked up Mrs Hudson, Donavon and Molly along the way and they met Mycroft outside the hospital.
"What happened?" Lestrade asked Mycroft as they were lead through the hospital.
"Sherlock committed suicide. I hear that Doctor Watson was witness to my brother jumping off this building. My sources also report that Sherlock phoned the doctor before he fell. Doctor Watson is with his body now." Mycroft said, his face void of emotion.
Mrs Hudson was crying and Molly helped her walk.
They were showed to the door that was shut.
Mycroft opened it and the group were met by a heart breaking sight.
John was facing away from the door and had pulled Sherlock into a hug. The detective's face could be seen flopped over John's shoulder and covered in blood. John was rocking him back and forth and sobbing, gut wrenching and heart breaking sobs.
Then the doctor screamed but his voice was muffled by Sherlock's coat that he had buried his face in.
The group flinched however stayed silent.
Then John started talking.
"Why? Why did you do this for me? We were good? We were, we were, we were good. Please, please explain because I'm not getting this. I don't believe one word you said. Not one word. I know you, I do, I know you. I know you. Sherlock... please..." John's sobs took over as he sobbed into his dead best friend's neck.
Lestrade gently stepped forward and put a hand on John's shoulder.
John shook him off and held Sherlock closer.
"No... no, leave us alone... leave us... us... I don't want anyone else. I want Sherlock. I need Sherlock!" John shouted.
"John, you need to calm down." Mycroft said.
John went silent, except for his heavy breathing, at the last Holmes' voice. Then he gently, while cradling Sherlock's head, laid his best friend back onto the table.
Then he turned around after entwining his warm hand with Sherlock's cold one.
His eyes met Mycroft and then slowly everyone else's in the room.
They all stared silently and sadly back.
Then John's eyes met Mycroft's again.
"I didn't tell him you were sorry. I was busy listening to his last words. He's your brother. And you are one of the reasons he's lying behind me on this table. He told me once, while he was sleep talking, that you were his main carer as a child. He'd have a nightmare or come home, bullied from school, and you'd be there for him. You weren't there when he really needed you. You told Moriarty everything, everything about him. His life, everything. You see... the thing is... now I see, I see why Sherlock jumped. All he had was me in the end. All we had was us, that was it. But I wasn't enough. He is such a lonely... lonely man... he's only human." John turned back around and ran his free hand through Sherlock's bloody hair.
"That's why we fitted. We needed each other. So lonely. But we had each other... was I not enough? What went wrong?... I believe in him... I do, I always, always will... for the rest of my life." John said, tears running down his cheeks.
Everyone looked on sadly.
"But I don't want life... not without you, Sherlock... I don't want this." John choked out.
Everyone's attention intensified at John's proclamation that he didn't want life.
"I want my best friend back... we were meant to be together..." John chuckled through his tears "...till death do us part... God, they were all right, we're like an old married couple." John choked out and laid his head on Sherlock's chest.
"Please don't leave me here... please, please... you ignorant, clever, arrogant and beautifully impossible man..." John whispered desperately.
"John... I think we should take you home." Lestrade suggested gently.
"He is my home!" John shouted and held onto Sherlock tighter.
"Come on, John... come on." Lestrade bravely stepped forward and wrapped his arms around John.
John held Sherlock tightly and struggled but Lestrade was bigger than John and not as exhausted, so he managed to pull John off of Sherlock. John tried to struggle out of Lestrade's arms.
"No... no, please, please, No... I can't leave him... please, Sherlock... Sher!... Please, no..." John shouted out as finally Lestrade pulled John so far away from Sherlock that their fingers flopped at each of their sides.
John's legs refused to carry his weight so Lestrade had to drag the man out but John kicked his legs.
"John, come on, please John... let him go." Lestrade said.
"Sherlock! Sherlock, please!" John shouted as he was pulled from the room.
Just before the door closed and with one last burst of energy, John broke free and ran to Sherlock's side. He kissed Sherlock's bloody forehead and rested his temple against his best friend's forehead.
"You're my best friend and I love you." John said and kissed Sherlock's forehead one more time before Lestrade had to drag him out as his legs had given up again.
The rest were forced to leave the room after whispering their goodbyes, as the staff had to clean Sherlock up.
Mrs Hudson, Molly, Donavon and Mycroft walked behind as Lestrade walked backwards down the corridors, his arms around John's chest, pulling the limp and soulless man along.
John's face was void of emotion, except he was crying.
They managed to get him in a police car. Mycroft said farewell and Molly left with a small goodbye.
Mrs Hudson sat in the front of the police car, Donavon was driving and John sat next to Lestrade in the back, who was doing a medical check. The police knew a bit about medicals and he checked John's eyes and did the usual. John just sat there, looking out of the window; he looked completely vacant, like he wasn't there.
"Sir, we have to go to the Yard. Remember, 221B Baker Street has been shut off, as an evidence scene. I suppose he can go back now. But we took the keys from Mrs Hudson." Sally said.
Lestrade just nodded.
"I can take him in. Jones has a good amount of medical training. It was best that we left the hospital when we did though. I just need someone to double check he's okay." Lestrade said.
They entered the yard. Everyone went quiet when they came to the floor that Sherlock often visited.
Lestrade was helping John walk; he was on shaky legs now. Tears slipped out every now and then and he was incredibly pale.
"Greg, it's cold. What am I cold?" John said shakily "Sherlock's warm, do you remember, when I almost got hyperthermia on a case. He had to give me a hug. He's a warm person." John added.
"Okay, John." Lestrade sighed. Lestrade himself felt like crying. Sherlock had been a friend and now he was dead and John was reduced to this, a man not really there anymore, just floating.
"Is he alright?" Anderson asked.
"Shut your mouth, Anderson and don't say that in such a patronising tone. How do you think he is? He just lost his best friend." Donavon said, oddly sympathising for the army doctor.
Everyone in the office had stopped working and watched John as Lestrade tried to lead him through the tables and chairs.
John was fine one moment and then he said "I need Sherlock! Take me back to him! Please! Sherlock!" John cried out and Lestrade caught him before he ran out. John struggled and cried.
"Please, I need to go back. I don't want him to be lonely." John said.
"John! John, calm down, please, it's alright, it will be okay." Lestrade said.
John dropped to the floor and curled up, sobbing broken heartedly. Some of the more sympathetic people in the office teared up at John's loss and pain.
Lestrade held John as the ex-army doctor cried his heart out.
"It will never be okay! I have nothing! Nothing left!" John said.
"You haven't lost everything, John." Sally tried to say.
"He was my everything! I would have committed suicide myself if I hadn't met him when I did! He is my reason for living! He kept me going day by day, he saved me... we saved each other." John finished.
"John you have to let him go. He's gone now." Lestrade said softly.
"I don't want to! I don't want to let him go!" John shouted.
Sally quickly found the keys and returned to Lestrade's side, who was trying to get John off the floor.
"Jones, I need you to do a medical check." Lestrade said.
Jones walked forward and put a hand on John's shaking shoulder. The army doctor was now on his back, crying silently, but looking vacant.
"John? Doctor Watson?" Jones asked gently.
John flinched a little but other than that made no response.
Jones looked up at Lestrade "What is his medical history?"
"Erm... he was shot and Sherlock told me he had a psychosomatic limp when they first met, but it went away when they were together. Erm... he has post traumatic stress disorder. I've visited them and John has had a panic attack, but Sherlock deals with them... only Sherlock knew the full extent of John's health." Lestrade said sadly. The pair really only did have each other in the world.
"John, what can you hear and see, right now. I want you to be honest." Jones asked.
John looked at Jones with blood shot eyes. "I see you, Jones, is it?" John said.
"Yes, that's right, John. And what can you hear?" Jones asked.
"You..." John stopped himself before he said anything else.
"What else can you hear?" Jones asked, gently but pushing.
"He's on the phone. 'That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note. Goodbye, John.'" John repeated to the room.
"Goodbye, John." John said and rolled onto his side, covered his face with his hand and cried.
"Take him home. Someone will need to stay with him. See if you can find out if he has a doctor or a psychiatrist. Other than that, he's physically okay. Call his psychiatrist or doctor." Jones advised.
"I'll stay with him." Lestrade said and took the keys off of Donavon.
He helped John stand up and guided him back outside again.
He drove to 221B Baker Street and helped John upstairs.
John looked around, and sat in his arm chair.
Lestrade made to sit in the chair opposite him but John shouted "No! That's Sherlock's chair!" So Lestrade sat at a desk chair and made some calls to find John's psychiatrist.
"You're booked in to see your psychiatrist tomorrow, John. I think you should go to bed." Lestrade said.
"I'm not tired. Can you leave me, please?" John asked quietly.
"I can't, you're not well. You shouldn't be alone." Lestrade protested.
"Please, Greg. Mrs Hudson is downstairs. I'm sure she'll keep an eye on me. I don't want anyone here. Don't worry, Lestrade. I'm sure Mycroft has cameras in here anyway, he'll keep an eye too. Just... leave me alone... please. And I'll always be lonely, for the rest of my life." John finished.
Lestrade sighed and lay John's phone on the arm of John's chair "Whatever time it is, call me." He said.
John nodded in consent, just so Lestrade would leave.
Lestrade left and John was alone. He felt so empty and torn up. And that is how Doctor John Watson would feel for three more years. Till his best friend comes back to him. And they made each other whole and human again.