"Goodbye, John." I saw Sherlock teetering on the edge of the hospital. Molly's hospital. Our hospital. I finally saw what he was going to do.
"No. Don't-" Then the line went dead. "SHERLOCK!" I screamed at the sky. I saw him tip one more time and fall, fall, fall, plummeting down towards the waiting concrete. His overcoat billowed out above him, filling with air. People turned to watch as my best friend tumbled off the highest building in sight… Well, maybe it's not, but it seemed that way to me. He disappeared behind a truck. He's going to die, I thought, finally realizing it. This wasn't another one of Sherlock's little schemes. This was the truth. "Let me through! I'm his friend." I shouted, hoping I could get to him before the police, or the ambulance, or whoever took him away from me. Friend, I thought bitterly. That's all I ever was to him. All I'll ever be. People parted like the Red Sea and I tunneled through until I saw him.
His body lay on the sidewalk, blood dribbling from his forehead. I let out a sob. "Sherlock…" I whispered, wishing that it would be like the fairy tales, where if I said his name his eyes would flutter open and he would be okay and alive and ticked off at me and all would be well. But nothing happened. Sherlock stayed put, his limp body still in my arms. I began to cry in earnest, not yet ready to admit that he was gone. I could feel the police and paramedics shaking me, but I wouldn't- no, couldn't- move. "N-no…" I whispered. "Don't take him away. He's gone. I'm a doctor. I should know." I tried again, louder this time. I knew they were trying to grab Sherlock out of my hands, but I didn't let go.
"Leave him be," I heard a voice behind me. "He's been through enough today. Let him stay for one more day." Lestrade? I thought. "John, I'm so sorry." Definitely Lestrade. He was the only one who really knew about Sherlock, more specifically, my interest in him. He wasn't just a friend. Not to me, at least. I… I loved him, no matter the cost. Now the tiniest hope of ever being together is gone, gone with the breath in his body.
But, wait. One more moment. Greg had given me one more moment, one more minute to try to redeem myself. One more moment to spend with him, with his spirit, saying all the things I never did. I was never a very superstitious man, but when your world is falling apart around you, sometimes you have to cling to something that's safe. I felt Lestrade leave. Good. I've got to do this alone.
"Sherlock." I whispered again, a little more powerfully this time. "Sherlock, how can you be…" My voice caught in my throat. No. Not now. "Dead?" I was blinking tears from my eyes, but that didn't help. I wasn't okay. Never would be. "Sherlock, I loved you! How could you not tell? How could you leave me like this? I need you, Sherlock!" I need you here, with me!" I let out another sob. John. Pull yourself together. But I couldn't. I buried my face in his chest and I felt… Movement? But no, That's impossible. No one could survive that fall, not even Sherlock Holmes. He couldn't be breathing, however much I want him to be. Nevertheless, I checked, readying myself for destruction.
And...no. I knew it. Sherlock was dead. My love was dead. Of course he was. He had to be. I couldn't stay there. I left his side and sprinted home, but I couldn't bring myself to enter the doors. I realized I hadn't gone home- I'd gone to his flat. 221B. I guessed it was mine now. That thought was too much to bear. I couldn't go there, not without him. I turned from the door and stepped into the cafe next to it. I would find somewhere else to go later. For now, I needed to rest my mind and let myself grieve, let myself go, just for a minute. My brain was quiet.