This is my first fic so I hope you enjoy :)
On the day of my suicide I found out something extremely important about life and death. Something I had not considered until seconds before I fell. If I die, he can live – although, is he really living? Sometimes, I pass him in the street, just to see him up close. He never sees me because his not looking for me, why would he be? He sat by my grave and used up his last bit of strength, last bit of hope. Now he just walks around, living an ordinary life with ordinary people. But John is not ordinary, when I think about those minutes he spent talking at my grave I feel a lump in my throat every time – I wanted to scream out that I was the one who owed him so much, I was the one who was so alone, he showed me what it was like to care, to care so much you'd give up your life for someone, he made me feel things, things I had never felt before. John I was wrong when I said heroes don't exist. You're a hero, you're my hero and one day you will be someone else's. I can't ever come home and you need to be happy again, you need to do more than just breathe again, you need to live again.
On the edge of the rooftop I found out that death is far from the most painful, destructive outcome. My eyes were full of tears on the phone to John, although I knew I would survive I also knew I wouldn't live anymore. This constant pain and torture of John being so near yet so far makes death look a friendly face. Perhaps I am simply holding on to the hope that one day, when we're both old and grey we can be together again, John. Until then, I hope you can try and live even if I am not. I'm going to try and sleep now John, it's usually less painful than being awake.
You said you would shake my hand in hell Sherlock, I waited for you Sherlock, and you've disappointed me again.
How could I have disappointed you, I played your game and I won – I'm alive and you're not.
Are you really alive Sherlock? How's John? Did you really win Sherlock? Because my melodies ended, and it seems yours never can.
I've beaten you, no matter what spin you put on this.
But I've burned out your heart, at least one of us keeps their word, although it does appear you've cheated me Sherlock and now I owe you again, another fall, and this time I think I'll start with the only thing keeping you breathing, you're not the only one who can come back from the dead Sherlock.
John. I'm awake now I won't let him near you.