"Goodbye, John," as Sherlock stood looking down on John. His tears were rushing down his cheeks.
"No. Don't," John almost whispered to him on the phone.
Sherlock gazed down at him for the last time, and then he lowered his arm and dropped the phone onto the roof. He out stretched his arms and fell towards the concrete earth below. John lowered his own phone and screamed his name. He felt the world go into slow motion and turn black. There was a long black silence. It was a peaceful stillness. He felt no pain.
As a boy, Sherlock had wondered where his father had gone. So devastated by his mother's adultery, he drowned himself with rocks in his pockets. Almost everyone left on earth to blame themselves for what happened. His memorial service wasn't even attended by his mother. She was too distracted with her boyfriend at the time probably. An event that left the Holmes boys full of sadness, anger, and bitterness that haunted them into adulthood. Sherlock would have given anything to hear his father's voice in uni. The dark times strung out on drugs and completely alone. His father treated him with the love and respect few ever gave him.
Light slowly began to appear and completely shined out the darkness. Blue skies surrounded him in every direction. Sherlock was completely disoriented by this. He was supposed to have lived through the fall. He realized this terrible realization as he looked more around him. He was nowhere he was before. He wanted to cry, but his body wouldn't comply. He was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing before.
"John, where am I? What's going on?" he talked in a daze. The clouds slowly drifted away in front of him. The shiniest golden gate he ever seen. There stood in front an older gentleman, with a long robe and white beard. He had a very heavy, old binding book and was writing down something in one of the pages. He then glanced up at him with a smile.
"Welcome Sherlock William Holmes. We've been expecting your arrival," the man continued to smile. "They call me Saint Peter, but you can call me Peter. I only use that other name for formalities sake."
"Alright Peter… where am I?" Sherlock gritted his teeth.
"Well obviously you aren't at St Bartholomew's Hospital. In fact, as I was last told by my boss you are currently having your funeral. Gosh, you sure look like the copy of Holmes senior.-"
"Shouldn't I be in hell? I killed myself!" Sherlock was pacing around the fluffy clouds in a huff. His mind was not grasping any of this well. He wanted so bad to be angry, but something was stopping that.
"What you did, was not suicide. You died so others would be able to survive. You are what others would call a martyr. It gets you immediate automatic access up here. Plus you had quite an impressive record of helping others."
"You said something about Holmes senior… my dad. Is he here?" Sherlock quietly asked.
"Of course he is. He was quite a piece of work when he came up here. You will get to see all kinds of folks up here. Let me unlock the gate for you here and show you around," he smiled as the gate unlocked with the melody of amazing grace. The gates opening were like the sound of an earthquake. After they made it through the gate it was an endless meadow. The ground was full of trees, beaches, oceans, deserts, mountains, all in the same place. A rainbow stayed brightly in the sky. Flowers of all kinds surrounded them. Sherlock was lost in thought and amazement till he thought he heard a long echo coming from the rolling hill. It was the sound of a familiar voice calling his name over and over.
Sherlock froze in realization. This was the sound of his father.