Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock, or any of the characters or plot - that's all the work of the lords Moftiss

Anon Request from tumblr

Anonymous asked: John tries for months to recover from losing Sherlock. He tries to kill himself and Sherlock comes to stop him. Tell me this tale o_o

John's eyes skim over the crowd, lifeless, cold. Unseeing. He breathes deeply, but he no longer gains any comfort from this. The grief controls his life, it seems everything relates to the man that fell from the roof of St. Barts 12 months ago.

John's initial shock didn't last long, but after that the anger set in. How could he be so daft? What was he thinking? Why would he do that? Why did he leave me alone? These questions circled in his head all night, every night. They prevented him from moving on. Some nights he would be welcomed into sleep's comforting embrace, only to awaken a few hours later with Sherlock's name still on his lips.

Sherlock's death was one that affected most of the people around him. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John, even Mycroft. The only person spared from this pain was Molly, only she knew the truth. Her guilt however was a completely different story, she could hardly look Lestrade in the eyes. She couldn't be around John, and so she avoided him at all costs. The weight of Sherlock's secret was great burden for her to bear, and her guilt became worse when she saw John a year after the fall. The man she encountered 12 months after Sherlock's fall was not the one she had known.

"John? H-How are you?" Molly asked, her voice shaking. John's face was thin, pale, and there were deep circles beneath his eyes. John sighed, before looking at the ground.

"I've definitely been better" he replied jokingly, a fake smile accompanying it. His eyes were flat and lifeless. They no longer contained the gleam that came with Sherlock's presence. Molly cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence that had enveloped them.

"Erm…What're you doing at St. Barts?" her voice cut through the silence like a knife. She pulled at her frayed sleeve, a thread coming loose.

"Oh…just came in to see how things were…" John replied. The absent-minded way in which he had replied told Molly something completely different.

"Well. If you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call" Molly said. She put a hand on his shoulder. John looked down at it and the corner of his mouth turned up briefly, before he shrugged it off.

"Thanks Molly, really. It's good to see you." He brushed past her with grim determination on his face. Molly turned and reached out to grab his arm, but she let it drop when she saw he had already reached the elevator. A feeling of dread curled in her stomach and she reached into her pocket for her phone. She scrolled down until she found the number that had gone unused for a year and prayed that it would still work.

"Molly?" A confused and crackling voice came from the phone, and Molly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Quick, Sherlock. It's John, he came to St. Barts..but-I-. Oh god, just come please" She had barely finished what she was saying before the line went dead. She locked her phone and dropped it in her lab coat.

"Oh god, John" She said quietly before running to the stairs, adrenalin pushing her up every step.

John stood in front of the door to the roof of St. Barts, completely calm. His face was that of a man who had been defeated. He sighed before pushing open the door and stepping out into the cold, wind harsh against his face. He covered his mouth, muffling a sob, as he walked towards the edge of the roof, shoulders hunched and shaking. He pulled out his phone half expecting to see Sherlock's number flashing on the screen, just as it was a year to the day. That dreaded moment when he saw Sherlock throw the phone to the side, the panic that had taken over him as he heard Sherlock speaking. As he stood there on the roof of St. Barts he remembered all of this, and instead saw it from Sherlock's eyes. He heard the echo of Sherlock's message in his mind. This is my note. He rubbed at his face, wiping away the tears that had clouded his vision. His defeated expression replaced with determination. John stood, wind buffeting his body, looking at the sea of people below.

"John! Stop!" Molly's voice rung out and his heart sped up as he stared down at the pavement below. He shook his head slowly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"I can't Molly! I can't" He said, voice thick with pain. Molly went to speak again.

"John. You're stronger than this" She whispered. He let out a laugh, no real humour present.

"No. Not without him" He said.

"I'm nothing without him! I've tried! I just. I can't anymore. Not without Sherlock" John's voice broke on Sherlock's name. Molly's guilt reached a peak. Guilt for doing what? She had promised Sherlock that she wouldn't tell anyone about what he had done, including John. John's pain was caused by Sherlock's secret, and Molly couldn't help but feel anger towards the man who had come to her in his time of need.

"No, John. Please. Stop, you can't do this!" Molly was desperate now, concern for the man on the ledge overwhelming her.

"I'm sorry Molly. I can't do this anymore" John said. There was a finality to the way he had said it. Molly started moving towards John, but not before she felt a tall body move past her. She gasped when she saw black hair atop the head of the man in front of her.

"John" the voice sent a shock down John's spine. I'm crazy, I've finally lost it. John thought to himself. He didn't turn around, shock holding him in place.

"It's me. Turn around" Sherlock said. John shook his head and turned around quickly, eyes still shut.

"YOU'RE NOT REAL" He roared. Sherlock closed the distance between them and grabbed John's hand. John's eyes snapped open, and he gasped.

"I am" Sherlock whispered. John stared down at their hands, joined together again after so long. His grip tight on Sherlock's hand. He looked up at Sherlock's face again, disbelief clouding his features. Molly closed her eyes, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. John, still shocked, reached up and held Sherlock's head between two shaking hands.

"You're real. Oh god." A sob escaped John's lips and he pulled Sherlock's head closer, pressing their foreheads together. John smiled for the first time in a year. He pulled back from Sherlock, eyes still glittering with tears, and smiled again.

"I'm sorry John" Sherlock said quietly. John shook his head, smile still present on his face. Sherlock smiled back, but before he could do anything more he felt a fist connect with his face. He was thrown back from the force of the punch.

"I'm glad you aren't dead. It means I can KILL YOU MYSELF!" John roared before launching himself at Sherlock, who was still on the ground recovering from the first of many hits that he would take that day.

END

Hi! so. this oneshot was written for a mysterious (but perfect) anon on tumblr, and i thought i'd share the story with you all. its my first Johnlock :P so i'm a bit worried about the feedback

and i know this type of thing has been done before. its not really that original, but hey! it was for a request so yeah :P

thanks for reading, and please be sure to review :)

Mez :)