Mary.
Harriet.
Both of them.
Lying dead on the cold metal table.
Car accident.
John survived.
He stood middle of those two women who he loved.
His sister.
His… his wife.
Mary, his wife.
It hurt to think.
It hurt and it hurt and it just hurt more and more every second.
There was nothing left anymore.
Everything was taken away from him.
He turned and left.
He walked away and someone yelled after him.
Stop him! Don't let him go! John! JOHN! Wait!
But he knew his way around this hospital.
This cursed hospital and double cursed morgue.
He had been there many times over years.
Too many times.
One time too much.
He locked the door behind him when he stepped on the stairs what lead on the roof.
JOHN! STOP! Someone, get the key! NOW! Don't do it! WAIT!
John halted for a moment.
Mycroft?
No, no, that man hadn't showed his face for three years, not after…
John walked up and was greeted with a rain.
In distance, there was a loud noise.
He didn't care.
He had lost everything.
For a moment everything had been perfect.
This was supposed to be his happiest day ever.
You can't see me until tomorrow John!
One kiss Mary.
Oh John…
John stepped into the edge of the roof and watched the empty streets.
No people in this rain.
Some cars.
Ambulance.
Some yelling peoples.
JOHN! NO!
Of course it was Lestrade. Who else? Always trying.
John knew, he was standing in the edge of devastation, waiting on the edge of the unknown.
Waiting someone to wake him in this nightmare.
He couldn't cry anymore.
There were no tears left to share.
He was there, alone.
Feeling cold and desperation.
Was this what you felt then Sherlock?
He closed his eyes.
Let the rain
Closed the noises away.
I tried Sherlock. I went forward. I tried.
After war.
After your death.
He remembered all the sadness and frustration after Sherlock's death.
I can't bear it anymore.
There is no one to catch me this time.
John spread his arms and stepped forward.
"JOHN! NO!"
Too late.