English is not my native language, and I speak better than I write, so please be kind : )

I'm not gonna tell what this fic is about, I'll let you find out.

"No!" John shouted, running through the living room. His hands were shaking and his leg was in such a pain that he fell on the stairs while trying to reach for his room. Of course, he could've run to Sherlock's, but like always, the feeling that the room was not available suppressed the memory that Sherlock was no long living there.

"John", Sherlock said, with a sad tone, almost breaking his own heart to talk. "Please." He begged.

John kept his eyes closed, crying, on the stairs. He didn't move, he didn't dare to look at his friend.

"I need you." Sherlock walked through the living room, stopping by his side. "I'm here and I need you".

For a moment, John remained in silence. They did not speak, not move. But suddenly, the doctor convinced himself that the leg wasn't hurting that much and ran upstairs. "You're not real. I'm not getting crazy! I'm not!"

"John, I'm here." Sherlock followed him. Slowly, taking his time. When he got into John's room, he saw the doctor behind the bed, crawled and shaking, holding his aching leg. "I'm not going crazy, I'm not!" he yelled.

"John, look at me." Sherlock asked. There was nowhere John could run anymore. So he took a deep breath and looked at his friend.

Sherlock was wearing his long overcoat and the scarf. His face was paler than ever, and his eyes were somehow brighter. His whole body was brighter. Like if there was some kind of light running through his veins. There were tears in his face, but they seems like liquid diamonds.

"You were dead" gasped John. "You died, I saw. I saw you dying! I was there the whole freaking time. I watched you becoming just skin and bones! We said goodbye to each other! And now you are alive again?"

"I am dead, John." Sherlock cried a little more. "I am dead."

"I'm going crazy, am I?" John tried to get up, but the leg was in excruciating pain. "I'm seeing you."

Sherlock stepped ahead to help him, but his hand went through John's arm like if he was made of air.

"You are not going crazy" Sherlock assured, breathing heavily. "Though I can't prove. You'll just have to believe me."

"You are a ghost?" John's voice faded in this throat. "For a moment I thought…" John's eyes were filled with tears, and the words seems to be stuck in his mouth, playing around, not intending to leave. "I thought you were back, like years ago."

"I had faked my death. I jumped from that building knowing I'd live. But this time… well, you can't fake a cancer, can you?"

John felt his whole body turn into a liquid state of pure tears. He got up and embraced Sherlock, but everything he felt was some cold sensation of absence. He couldn't feel his friend. He couldn't hug him.

Sherlock also couldn't feel John's body. Instead, he felt the warm sensation of the loved missed one.

"Sorry, John. I'm sorry." He said. "It's over."

"Why are you here then? Why are you haunting me?"

Sherlock stepped back. He was in front of a mirror, but there was no reflection.

"It seems that I've left some unfinished things. I need your help to finish it. I'm tied to some people. I must break these strings. Would you do this for me, John?"

John stared his friend for some seconds. He was there. Standing in front of him with a sad desolated expression.

"Then you'll go away?"

"I'll be free to go, yes."

"I don't want you to go."

Sherlock let another diamond-like tear roll. "I don't wanna haunt you for the rest of your life. You must get over me. You are alive, John. I'm not."

"I'm not living either!" John shouted. "I can't, Sherlock! You can't ask me to do something that will make me never see you again!"

"I wanna go, John." Sherlock confessed, looking at anything but John's eyes. "You see, this state… It hurts. It's like I'm empty. Incomplete. I wanna go"

"You wanna rest in peace? You don't like peace. Peace is boring to you."

Sherlock smiled briefly, in a way that John could barely notice. "I'm tired. The cancer exhausted me. I just wanna…"

"You are lying! You wanna go so you can stop seeing me!" John sat on his bed, not able to take the pain on his leg anymore. "It all makes sense now. You've being watching me. The voice in my head, telling not to…"

"Pull the trigger." Sherlock ended the sentence when John just couldn't. "Yeah, that was me."

"Sherlock… please, don't go. And don't ask me to help you doing it."

Sherlock sat by his side. The bed showed no resistance to his weight, and the sheets didn't even got smashed. "Please, John. I need to go. I'm begging to you. Help me."

This chapter was a prologue. I'm not sure if there will be only one more or I'll post the rest in different chapters. Or if I won't post at all, if there's no reviews xD (considering that nobody wants the rest).