John listened to the sea crashing on the shore. Their steadiness clamed him but the sound wasn't quite enough to drown the echo of Sherlock's words that had haunted him ever since THE day.
This phone call, it's my note...
I'm a fake...
Goodbye, John...
The words changed but the tone was always the same; there was a tremble in Sherlock's voice as if it was about to break, as if Sherlock of all people was about to cry.
John had tried to move on, he really had, but it had been impossible.
There hadn't been a night he hadn't dreamt about Sherlock falling, there hadn't been a single time he hadn't woken with his flatmate's name on his lips.
John hadn't been able to go anywhere without being drowned in memories, even after he'd left Baker Street, even after he'd left London.
He had travelled the world, desperately trying anything to feel more alive. He'd climbed the Mount Everest, had been bungee jumping at the Grand Canyon. He had been at wild parties in Asia, waking without knowing what had happened the night before, waking next to women he didn't know.
In Thailand there'd been a woman he slept with more frequently, a woman who could ease his pain a little. For some time he had tried to tell himself it was love, that they might be able to have a real relationship but when he'd told her so, she'd only laughed.
"I like you, John," she'd said "but what we have isn't real. You're not this person staying up late, drinking and flirting with girls who could be your daughter."
This was the moment John had realized he'd been living a lie. He'd had changed so much he didn't recognize himself anymore.
He'd taken the next plane back to England and when he'd looked down at the endless ocean he had suddenly known what it was what he had to do.
And he felt that he'd known it all along, because was there really another option than following Sherlock?
A cold wind ruffled his hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel the last rays of the setting sun.
Once it was gone he would jump.
Slowly he got up, taking deep a breath. Just one step forward and it would be his last.
"John?" The sound of his name made him twitch, almost causing him to fall of the cliff without intending to. "John!"
There was a flashlight scanning the area, finally setting in John's face. Blinded he raised an arm to block the light.
"Sorry!" The flashlight was lowered. John's eyes hadn't gotten used to the darkness but he could see a figure approaching. "I've been looking for you for hours…"
The voice, a voice sounding a little familiar as John now realized, trailed off and the flashlight flickered from John's feet to the abyss.
"Jesus, you really were about to jump, weren't you?"
"Greg?! What the hell are you doing here?"
The DI who had finally reached John shrugged. "Mycroft has called me."
There was an uncomfortable silence. John felt caught and he could see Lestrade was uncomfortable with him standing so close to the edge.
The DI cleared his throat. "Would you... would you mind stepping away from the cliff a little?"
John did as Lestrade asked and sat back down on the rock from which he'd watched sunset.
"What exactly did Mycroft tell you?"
"He said you were about to …do something stupid and told me to give you this."
Lestrade produced a thigh envelope from his pocket and handed it John.
The doctor took it with a frown and when he opened it a mobile phone fell into his lap.
Adrenaline shot through him as he thought it was Sherlock's but when Lestrade directed his flashlight on it, it became clear it's the one of the Detective.
"Whose is that?"
"I don't have a clue", Lestrade said, he looked at the phone more closely. "Looks a little bit like Mycroft's."
John turned it on and chose 'Messages'. There was only one conversation.
You've had a good reason, I suppose? MH
Sherlock, I know you've read this! MH
Figured it out more quickly when I expected. SH
You pulled the SIM-card out of your phone. MH
I put another in. SH
Fresh fingerprints. You didn't really expect to trick me, anyway.
Would've been funny to see your reaction to my death though SH
How's John? SH
Grieving.
He'll cope. SH
Wouldn't be too sure about that. M
…
According to Mrs Hudson he barely eats more than you usually do. MH
He hasn't been at work for the last two weeks. MH
They've fired him. Any idea what he's going to pay the rent from? MH
You will. SH
He's stopped seeing his therapist.
...
His limp is back, by the way. MH
I don't need you for bad conscience!
He has left Baker Street.
...
Do you plan to come back? ...
Sherlock!
...
Does he always look that sad?
You saw him?
On the Eiffel tower...
You could end his grief, if you came back.
...
Why did you leave him anyway?
...
Congratulations for catching this drug dealer in New Mexico. You know you've screwed up a CIA mission people have spent years planning?
...
I've got a new security ID. Just in case you're planning to visit any military bases.
...
...
It's been two years now since your suicide, Sherlock. What the hell are you doing?
...
I'll tell him.
You wouldn't dare!
No answers in months and now within thirty seconds? You still care for him, brother.
That's none of your business!
Did you know John spends most of his time in Asian nightclubs?
…
I saw pictures of him. I'd give him some more months...
Until what?
Until he breaks down, Sherlock. You really think you could handle that?
He's strong.
There is only so much one man can take. He's on the edge.
...
Isn't there anything you could do for him?
Huh, a change of mind?
I saw him.
From Brazil to Thailand in twelve hours? You must have taken the first plane available...
We both know I can't fool you. I still care if that's what you want to hear. So, is there anything you can do?
I could tell him you're still alive.
...
He's coming back to England. I don't think that means anything good.
...
Sherlock, I saw the CCTV footage. There's a certain determination in his eyes I don't like at all.
...
He's heading to Cornwall. I will tell him.
...
No, you won't!
Mycroft?
Mycroft!
MYCROFT! DO NOT DARE TO DO THIS!
There are cliffs there, Sherlock.
You really think it is that bad?
Where is he?
Mycroft!
John starred at the mobile phone.
"This can't be true!" For sure Mycroft had faked this to keep him from jumping. Suddenly the phone buzzed and another text came in.
Please, go ahead and tell him! He can't jump!
Sherlock heard the text alert of his brother's phone. It was already dark but he was running anyway. "Mycroft?" he called. "Mycroft? Please tell me you weren't too late!"
He heard that his voice was too high, about to break, but he didn't care.
His eyes scanned for any lights but he could see none. He hoped it wasn't because Mycroft was at sea level already.
With tears in his eyes, he fumbled for his phone, punching in Mycroft's number.
He had to wait some seconds before the call got through when he heard his brother's ringtone. It wasn't too far. Just behind another hill.
John's heart skipped several beats when he heard the voice. It was the voice he'd recognize anywhere, the voice, which had haunted his sleep for almost three years now.
He wanted to shout back, to say he was all right but he couldn't utter a single word.