John sat quietly on the examination table. He kicked his feet slightly as his nerves crept up on him, his feet unable to reach the floor. He glanced around at the posters and charts on the wall, then reached out to the fake skeleton standing next to him, touching its limp arm causing it to swing. The doctor entered, his face dark. John took a deep, audible breath in and out.
221b Bakerstreet-
"Can you say, Sherlock?"
"Dada."
"No. Sherlock, Sher-lock."
"Dada."
"For Christ sake—
"Alright, Give it one last go."
Rosie stared blankly at Sherlock as he knelt in front of her high chair in the kitchen.
"Say...Sherl—"
"Dada."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the child,
"Why do I feel like you're doing this to mock me?"
Rosie giggled,
"Like father like daughter."
Sherlock stood, lifting Rosie from her seat,
"Nap time!" He said in a baby voice. He instantly crinkled his nose,
"Why the hell am I talking like that?"
John entered through the kitchen door.
"John, take this before I turn into a complete idiot."
Sherlock said trying to conceal a grin at the baby.
John stared at the two solemnly,
"Um...so, I've uh.."
Sherlock looked up at his friend,
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you forgot the milk again." Sherlock wined. He then turned his attention back to Rosie, wiping milk from her chin.
John bit his lip,
"No. I didn't go to the store."
Sherlock snapped his head to John, furrowing his brow. He looked the man up and down. A million deductions going through his mind at once. He noticed the sleeve of Johns right arm was wrinkled and unbuttoned but not the left one, as well as red eyes and dark bags beneath signaling possible crying and loss of sleep,
"Why did you need a Doctor?" Sherlock asked straightly.
John couldn't help but be impressed yet again by his friends wit. He paused for what felt like an eternity,
"I've got cancer. Stage 3, in my brain."
The room suddenly felt heavy. Sherlock's mouth hung open slightly as he tried to say something. John's eyes got misty.
"Please tell me this is another joke." Sherlock finally said.
John couldn't speak, or even look at his friend and daughter. He just shook his head.
Sherlock set Rosie back in her high chair, paced the room in a panic,
"Well, you'll do radiation and chemotherapy—"
"What's the point?" John questioned looking at his companion, "I'm dying, I've got months—"
"There's something, there has to be something you can do—"
"There isn't. Sometimes there just isn't. I know you're not used to that but that's real life." Sherlock began to stammer, "I'll talk to Mycroft—"
"Sherlock! Listen to me."
Sherlock went silent and still, his lips tight, and his breathing heavy. Rosie began to wine quietly. John hesitated before picking her up. He kissed her forehead, holding her tightly to his side. He looked Sherlock In the eye. Tears finally began to stream down his cheeks,
"I need you... to look after her when I'm gone."
"No, I won't hear this." Sherlock replied, feeling his blood begin to boil. He exited the kitchen into the front room,
"Please. Please listen to me, as my friend and my daughters godfather." John followed with Rosie, now on the verge of sobbing. Sherlock paused, feeling the sting of tears welling in his eyes. He sat in his chair stiffly, waiting for John to finish. John remained standing,
"I need to know that you can do that for me. I can ask Molly but I'd rather Rosie be with you. Despite what you say you love her...and I know she loves you..." Sherlock's hands began to shake and his tears finally over
"Of course I will... but... I refuse to let you die without a fight John. That's never how we've handled things. You wouldn't let me die this way." Sherlock pressed,
"There's nothing to be done." John replied simply,
"How can you just stand there and say that?" Sherlock asked,
"You don't think I'm scared? I'm terrified. This wasn't in the plan. I thought... I thought because I was your friend—"
"Am." Sherlock interjected,
"Ok, I thought because I AM your friend, I was invincible, but clearly I was wrong. You..." John shook his head trying to regain control of his emotions,
"You are my best friend in the world, Sherlock Holmes, and what you have done for me these past years saved my life. Now I don't want this to ruin you. Please for Rosie's sake, don't let this break you."
Sherlock wiped his eyes, and stood. He stepped towards his friend and pulled he and Rosie into a tight hug,
"I will do this for you," he said softly, "but hear me when I say I will not stop fighting to keep you here. Not for a second. Not until after you've taken your last breath." Sherlock pulled away, swiftly walking to his room. He shut and locked his door. As soon as he heard the click of the lock he leaned into the door, weeping as quietly as he could. His legs gave out and he slid his back along the surface of the door until he reached the floorboards. He buried his head in his knees, giving in to his sorrow.