Author's Comment: Hmm...It seems I'm on a depressing-writing kick. Ah well. Enjoy and please excuse the bit of OOC-ness of John and Sherlock.
The song, "Fade To Black," by Metallica is weaved throughout the fic. The parts of the song are in bold AND italics.
There is a letter written in the story, and the parts of the letter are in italics ONLY and have quotation marks around it.
DISCLAIMER 1: THE SONG, "FADE TO BLACK," WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME NOR DOES IT BELONG TO ME. IT BELONGS COMPLETELY TO METALLICA. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~
DISCLAIMER 2: THE CHARACTERS, JOHN WATSON AND SHERLOCK HOLMES, DO NOT BELONG TO ME. THEY BELONG TO THE BBC SHERLOCK TELEVISION SHOW.
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John sighed with frustration as he struggled to unlock the door with several grocery bags in his arms. "Sherlock!" he hollered as the door swung open. He staggered through the doorway and used his foot to close the door behind him. John stumbled up the stairs, rolling his eyes over the fact that his flatmate completely ignored him. Of course, that was expected of the great Sherlock Holmes. John went into the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the table. He let out a sigh of relief; the bags were a bit heavy and it felt nice to put them down. "Sherlock!" He yelled again as he put the cold food away in the refrigerator and freezer. Sherlock gave no reply.
Life it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
John finished with the food and looked into the living room, but his friend was not there. His brow furrowed a bit with confusion. Where else would Sherlock be? They weren't working on any cases at the moment, and, knowing him, he would be in the living room moping and complaining about being bored. And yet, he wasn't. The doctor walked into the living room and look a quick look around before calling out Sherlock's name once more. "Sherlock?" He walked towards Sherlock's chair and looked around it, trying to see if there was any evidence of Sherlock recently being there. A white letter envelope on the small side table beside the chair caught John's eye. He picked it up slowly. On the middle of the front of the envelope John's name was written simply, and it was in Sherlock's handwriting.
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
John opened the envelope slowly and swallowed hard. He didn't know what to expect from the envelope. Why would Sherlock leave him a letter? Is it even a letter? He looked into the envelope; it was a letter. John took a deep breath then took the letter out and unfolded it. The first thing it said was, "John." He stopped and gritted his teeth, continuing to read with uncertain eyes. "John, I'm sorry it had to end this way." John's face slowly tightened into a mournful grimace. He knew what was coming but he kept reading. "Yes, I am actually sorry. To clarify, this is my suicide note. I think that's what the situation calls for. See, you were the only person who could keep me sane, keep me alive. The only person who cared for me. The only person I truly cared for." His eyes slowly started filling with tears. "However, I cannot keep this up any more."
Things are not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
"You don't understand how my mind works, John, how many things I think of in a day. How many things I plan on doing that I shouldn't do. I've made plans to kill people, John. A lot of people. I cannot allow myself to keep on living while I have this monster inside of me, and I cannot rid myself of the monster because I am the monster. I've let it out and it's swallowed me whole." A few tears fell from his eyes and he let out a sob. "I'm so sorry, John. I truly am. I loved you, John. So much. I think I was in love with you, but it doesn't matter anymore. By the time you get this, I will be gone. So allow me to say my last words…"
Emptiness is filing me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now He's gone
"John Watson, you are my savior, but I say goodbye." John felt his knees go weak so he let himself sit in Sherlock's chair for a moment. He put the letter back onto the side table and buried his face in his hands. He couldn't stop himself from sobbing out Sherlock's name. He then sniffled and quickly wiped his tears from his eyes, reached into his jacket pocket, and retrieved his mobile. John called Sherlock. After a second passed, John heard the other mobile ring from the bathroom. He hung up and stood slowly, feeling shaking in his legs. He walked towards the bathroom. He sped up the closer he got, and grabbed the doorknob. Before he opened it, though, he took a moment to breathe.
No one but me can save myself but it's too late
Now I can't think think why I should even try
John sorrowfully opened the door and closed his eyes as he slipped in. He swallowed hard as he opened his eyes, which were filled to the brim with tears once more. Sherlock's body was in the bathtub with a gun in his hand, and blood was splayed across the shower tiles and himself. John fell to his knees and covered his mouth with his hand, muffling his sobs. With his free hand he reached towards Sherlock, placing his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock!" He cried and sobbed. John's head hung low as his tears kept falling. His whole body shook as he wailed and mourned. The great Sherlock Holmes had passed.
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death Greets me warm, now I will just say good-bye
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END