"What are you doing? Get down!" Clara called helplessly into her phone.
"I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it this way." Sherlock ignored Clara's demand.
"Do what this way?" Clara fought back tears, trying to concentrate on the man standing on the edge of a building.
"This phone call, it's my note- that's what people do don't they? Leave a note." A single tear rolled down Sherlock's cheek as he failed to hold them back, looking down at the women he loved.
Clara hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, before managing to pull a sentence together. "Leave a note when?" Her voice cracked.
"Goodbye Clara. I love you."
And with that, he let the phone slide out of his hand and onto the roof. Everything stood still as he spread out his arms and slipped off the roof.
She didn't even realize she was running towards the broken body on the floor until a harsh force came at her from behind and knocked her to the ground, a random cyclist had knocked her over.
If it had been any other situation, she would have yelled at them, but her mind was pre-occupied with reaching the corpse in the middle of the street.
Doctors and nurses had already began to crowd around Sherlock, one of them was trying to block Clara while another grabbed her to keep her in place.
The tears now fell freely down her face. Blood soaked his raven black curls, his eyes were still open but devoid of life.
Before she could pull away from the strangers grasp, Sherlock was already being carted away on a stretcher.
The crowd was now dissappearing, leaving Clara slumped in the middle of the street.
He was dead. He jumped. He's dead.
A hand grabbing her shoulder broke her out of her thoughts, she turned round to find John Watson staring at her with concern in dark blue eyes.
"Clara what's wrong?" He helped her off the floor.
"He jumped. He's dead!"
John blinked in disbelief, "W-What?"
She couldn't bring herself to say it again. It was too hard. Too hard to come to terms with what just happened.
xxx
His gravestone was unusual but unique, it was black and abnormally shiny with only 'Sherlock Holmes' carved into it. No date of birth, no date of death, no message. Just his name.
The three weeks after his death were hell for Clara, she would dream about him being alive and just as they got close, she would wake up. She also found herself waking up in the middle of the night vommiting, or being overcome with dizzy spells at random moments.
Tears fell down her face as she stared blankly at the gravestone, "Please come back." her voice cracked.
Eventually, it was too hard to stand there, so she turned to walk out the cemetery.
But what she doesn't notice is the tall man with raven black hair staring at her from behind a tree. Tears form in his eyes as he watches the woman he loves, the woman who taught him to love, walk of with her head hung down. Part of him is sreaming to run up to her and hold her tight, but he knows he can't.
He has to protect her, even if it means destroying both of them.