I fell for you
This time it is John standing on the roof of St. Bart's and Sherlock down on the street, watching. What is he doing there? Does he want to jump, too?
"John?"
John approaches the edge of the roof and peeks down. Sherlock's heartbeat starts to accelerate. John hasn't prepared any arrangements to fake a suicide; he can see that from here.
"John!"
Sherlock screams louder this time, but his voice remains unheard.
John stretches his body, one step, and –
"John!"
This can't be true! John's body falls, bones crush, blood splashes on the hard ground. Sherlock runs like he has never run before.
"JOHN!"
Sherlock awakes with a start, soaked in sweat. It is dark and he is in his bedroom, 221B Baker Street. A dream? Just a dream. A dream, yes. He stares into the blackness that encloses him, his heart is in his mouth. John is not dead. No. He is upstairs in his own bedroom. His has not committed suicide. Can he be sure? Yes. No, he can't be sure. Of course not. Not entirely, for god's sake.
He has to know. To know that John is alive. Not dying. He has to know for sure. He jumps out of his bed and runs up the stairs. With a bang he opens the door. John is in his bed. Awakening. Confused. Maybe angry. He has no time for that. He rushes up to John and takes his wrist. Pulse is normal. Slightly raised, though. Due to his sudden appearance. But that's not enough.
"Did you take any pills?" he asks urgently and starts searching the drawer.
"Where is your gun?"
John is startled, wide-eyed.
"Sherlock?"
"Answer my questions. Please! Are you committing suicide?"
"Sherlock?" John chuckles.
He chuckles?
"Are you not committing suicide, then?"
"No, Sherlock! No! What the hell? I mean, what made you think I'd do that? In the middle of the night?"
Sherlock pauses. Then he exhales, in relief.
"Oh god, John! I was dreaming. I dreamt…I am sorry. I was dreaming it was you who jumped off the roof of St. Bart's. I… I couldn't bear it. The very thought of losing you - " He swallowed. "You have no idea."
The expression on John's face grows stern now.
"I have no idea, Sherlock? Really?" He grips Sherlock's shoulders, forces his gaze. "I actually saw you doing it. Falling. Do you know what it did to me?"
The realization hits Sherlock like a rock. For himself, everything has been crystal clear. He faked his death in order to save John and the others. He had to hide for a while. Then he came back to John, who was a bit unsettled in the beginning. Sherlock had expected that. But what it really means to lose his best friend, his partner, he has had no idea about. Thinking now what John has gone through, believing he was dead made him shiver. He sinks to the floor, buries his head in John's chest.
"John, you are right, I had no idea, I am so sorry!" He sobs.
"It's fine" John says and caresses his back, appeasing. "It's all fine. You are here now. And I am, too."
A few hours later, the first rays of sunlight blaze a trail through John's carelessly closed blinds and tickle him awake. He lies on his back. Wrapped around him lies Sherlock, his face hidden in John's neck.
"John" he murmurs "I fell for you."
The sun beams from John's face now.