An Appropriate End
A Sherlock one-shot by SurpriseSushi
He stood on top of Saint Bart's hospital, staring down at the cold, hard pavement, wondering if it hurt. Wondering if he was scared while he fell.
The fog that had settled over London was beautiful.
Tears were streaming down his face; he no longer tried to hide them. He hid his feelings for so long, trying to be tough. Trying to be so strong. He was tired, so tired. Tired of trying so hard.
He breathed deep. Wind blew through his hair. He closed his eyes. John Watson stepped up to the ledge, his heart hammering against his chest; but he had made up his mind. Long ago.
He leaned over the edge, prepareing to jump-
Arms wrapped themselves around his chest and pulled him back, causing him and his 'savior' to fall to the hospital's rooftop. He landed on his back, the air forcing itself out of his lungs. After a moment, after regaining his breath, he forced himself to his feet, and glared at the man who had saved him, who was standing a few feet away. His heart stopped.
"John."
"You..."
John stared at him from across the fog, unable to believe his eyes. He must be dreaming. That's it; he thought. This is just one of my dreams. He couldn't he standing there. It wasn't possible. John had heard him say goodbye. John had seen him fall. John had heard the sickening crunch of inpact-
"Hello, John."
Hello, John. Hello, John?
"You're dead." John said, his voice cracking. "I saw you- you fell-" He shook his head, the lump in his throat making it impossible for more words.
"I'm here, aren't I?" He said, walking towards John. John took a step back. "John."
"Sh-Sherlock." John choaked out. "Sherlock- you're... you're... you can't be here." Sherlock stopped in front of him. "I saw you d-" He swollowed hard. "I saw you die. I saw you dead. Lying on a metal table to identify your body. You were dead."
"I'm not dead."
John punched Sherlock in the face, the darker haired man grunting and tumbling to the ground. "No, shit!" Sherlock looked up at John, a hand on his newly bruised cheek. "You- complete- bastard!" John screamed before Sherlock had time to say anything. "You- You-"
"John, please, calm down-"
"Calm down?" John yelled. "You want me to be calm? You had me believe- for ten months- that you were dead! No, no- you were dead. You were dead! I saw you buried!" Sherlock pulled himself up from the ground, but John began to hit him, crying out in rage. "Fuck you! You left me to believe you were dead!" Sherlock fell to the ground again, but he brought John down with him. "Damn it, Sherlock! I hate you- I fucking hate you!" He stopped punching Sherlock, who was now bleeding from several cuts, and John broke down and began to cry, shoving his face into Sherlock's chest.
It didn't take long till John was out right sobbing, Sherlock's arm around his body, holding him tightly. "John, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He whispered, stroking John's hair. "I'll fix everything." A tear fell down Sherlock's cheek and onto John's blond head. "Please forgive me."
/
A/N: I do not own Sherlock. :)
Short and sweet. I honestly don't think John to be the kind of man to kill himself, but when compareing the compelling lifestyle he lived with Sherlock and then havening to go back to the monotomy of nothing- I think it would push John to the edge. And I appologize if I make very little sence, I'm extremely tired. Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, and thanks for reading.
-Sushi
