This is my probably slightly sappy take on how Sherlock and John reunited. Even though in the actual version, he was a real you-know-what about it. Buuuuut I digress.

Please do not read this one-shot if you haven't watched The Reichenbach Fall, because it contains some pretty major spoilers. If you have seen it, go right ahead!

Enjoy. (:

"Keep your eyes fixed on me."

I do. I can't do anything otherwise.

"Please, will you do this for me? This call–it's... It's my note. It's what people do, don't they–leave a note?"

"Leave a note when?" my voice is strangled out of my throat.

"Goodbye, John," is all he says. His voice seems distant, and the mobile line crackles a bit.

I shake my head, "No, don't."

Sherlock throws his mobile down behind him.

"No," I repeat, "SHERLOCK!"

He is falling. I want to move, but I am frozen. I want to scream but I can't find my voice.

I know this is a dream. I know it. I can feel my fingers clutch the sheets beside me into my fists, and my pillow is damp with sweat beneath my head. Yet I can't bring myself to wake up. I'm not that strong. And, I guess, in some part of me, I don't want to wake up. Part of me wants to remember that last moment with him. Both of us, alive. No matter how much it hurts me. I bear the pain to remember him.

His legs hit the ground, crumpling beneath him, then his head. A sickening thud fills my ears and magnifies until it swallows me whole.

I bolt upright, my left hand clutching at my chest. My breathing is ragged and sporadic. I look over at my alarm clock–2:21 a.m. My best friend died one year ago today.

I wait until my breathing and heart rate return to semi-normal before rising out of the bed slowly.

I calmly put on a pair of trousers and my coat.

"John?" I hear a groggy voice behind me. Mary.

"Hmm?" I turn my head to look out of the corner of my right eye at her.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," I answer tersely.

"At two thirty in the morning?" she whispers incredulously.

"Yes," I say, even more tersely than before.

Before Mary can contradict me any further, I am out the door, letting it swing behind me.

I hail a taxi.

"St. Bartholomew Hospital, please," I'm just as surprised to hear my own words as if I were hearing them as someone else. Emotion is thick and evident in my voice.

I look out at the sidewalks without really seeing them. I don't actually focus my eyes until I feel the taxi stop abruptly. I blink a couple times, trying to clear my head.

"Hey, mate–this is your stop. I don't have all night," the taxi driver yells back to me.

"Right, sorry," I mutter as I get out of the taxi.

I don't know why I'm here. I slip in and up the stairs. I can't afford to be in an elevator with someone right now.

I get up to the roof landing and linger at the door for a few moments. Maybe this will relieve this tension in my chest, being here.

I open the door and step out into the frigid air.

This is where he stood. This is where he stood as he made the decision to leave me–to leave everyone–forever. Raw emotion overtakes me.

"Oh, Sherlock," I moan, covering my mouth with my hand as to not lose my mind entirely, "Sherlock, if you're out there, whether you're an angel, or a spirit, or whatever, but if you can hear me at all, please just send me a sign that you're alright..."

I sob into my hand for a few moments, knowing that there's no way I'll ever know that he's alright again.

My mobile's going off in my pocket. I take it out and look at the screen. I blink the cloud of tears out of my eyes and have to do a double take.

Turn around.

S.H.

Thanks for reading! (: