((Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Sherlock, nor do I own Sherlock at all, though I and many others probably wish we did. _ Also, warning, there is SLASH FICTION if you don't like, please don't read. I don't want complaints, yeah? Thanks. Love you all, Enjoy!))

WARNING! I am currently still in the process of editing this and typing it out, please bare with me while this takes place! Sincerely, -The Writer

Prologue: The End

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. The world was dull, and gray, and boring. The shot was still ringing through the air, loud and final. The body of the once dangerous genius was lying cold on the rood. The wind blew ominously. There was nothing left to stop what had to be done. It was nearly impossible to believe things had snowballed so out of his control.

He walked to the ledge, head hanging slightly, lost in thought. They had been getting a dog today, a puppy. 'Gladestone…' He thought the name had been slightly silly, but what did he know of such things. Naming animals was another mystery he wasn't ready to let disturb his Mind Palace.

Thinking of it, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself a bit, until he realized he had reached the end of the rood. He stepped up onto the ledge, and looked down and out before him. He saw a cab pull up across the street and watched as a familiar blond hair immerged. A smile pulled at his sad lips. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and pressed the first speed dial and put the cell to his ear.

It rang only half a ring and the voice on the other end answered. "Hello? Sherlock? Where are you, I'm coming inside." he said, voice not yet overly worried.

Sherlock took a shaky breath, trying to compose himself before speaking. "John…" he closed his eyes, keeping his tears at bay. "Turn around, and walk back the way you came."

"But Sherlock, I'm coming in–"

"No. Please…Just do as I say." he interrupted, watching his friend from his perch high above. He watched as John turned and walked back. "Stop. Right there. Now, look up, I'm on the roof." he said, voice trembling slightly.

John looked up and his eyes watered, seeing his best friend on the ledge of the hospital. "Oh god…"

"I-I…I can't come down…So we'll just have to do it like this…" he said into the phone.

"Sherlock…what is this…?" John asked, holding Gladestone's leash as the pup whimpered.

There was a slight pause. "An apology." he said simply, and paused again to compose his thoughts. "It's all true. Everything they said about me." he glanced back at the body behind him. "I invented Moriarty." he said and sighed. "I'm a fake." he said, getting choked up. "The newspapers were right all along." he pauses again, taking another shaky breath before continuing on. "I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly. Tell Gladestone for all I care. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty, for my own purposes."

"No. No, shut up. Shut up." John whimpered. "When we first met, all that stuff you know about me, about my sister."

Sherlock scoffed. "Nobody could be that clever."

"You could!" John exclaimed in protest.

Sherlock laughed slightly. "I researched you." he said and paused, letting it set in. "Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you." he said simply. There was an eerie silence between the two, and the wind howled in their ears. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Sherlock added, to break the silence.

"No…" John murmured, his eyes watering. He went to move towards Sherlock.

"No, stay exactly where you are! Don't move! Keep your eyes fixed on me!" He exclaimed, putting his hand out.

"It's alright." John frowned, putting his hands up. "I won't move."

"Please, will you do this for me? This phone call, it's uhm…it's my note." he paused. "It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"

"Leave a note for what?"

"Goodbye, John." he said simply, and tossed his mobile behind him. He spread his arms.

"No!" he yelled, putting his phone down away from his ear.

Sherlock stepped off the roof, flailing as he fell through the air towards the ground.

"SHERLOCK!" John screamed. He watched, helpless, as his friend plumated to his death. He rushed to his friend, but Gladestone wouldn't budge, and a passing bicyclist ran into John, knocking him off balance. He fell to the concrete, hitting his head. "Sher…lock…" he groaned. He slowly picked himself up and went to Sherlock's side, a group having already gathered.

"Excuse me! Let me through. I'm a doctor." John said, pushing his way through. "I'm his friend…" he added. He reached for Sherlock's arm, feeling for a pulse, but was pulled off.

"Oh jeeze….Oh god…." John whispered, staring at his friend's body, broken and sad.

The doctors heaved Sherlock's body onto a stretcher and John watched as his friend was wheeled into the hospital.

A few days later, Mrs. Hudson and John stood in the rain under a tree before Sherlock's headstone. They were both silent for a very long time.

"It's going to be so quiet now…No guns going off at 4 in the morning…" Mrs. Hudson sighed.

John nodded silently, and hung his head. Mrs. Hudson turned and walked away.

"There's so much I need to say…But I don't know how. I just don't…know how to say them." he whispered to the cold, quiet headstone. "I still don't know why you did this…" he murmured. He frowned, and went to turn away, but stopped. "Just one thing Sherlock. Just one more miracle, for me. Just one more. Just don't…be…dead. Don't be…dead." he whispered, getting choked up. "Stop this. Stop this, right now…" he said and pointed angrily at Sherlock's grave. He quickly composed himself and saluted Sherlock's grave, spinning on his heel and walking away into the rain soaked day.