Warning: Character death

That day he lost his friend, his lover. John had never felt so alone. He was too scared to leave the flat they had once shared. Everything reminded him of Sherlock, every person he saw reminded John of him. The way, he would deduce everything about a person. Oh, how he missed his deductions, his awkwardness, his wit and the joy that came over him when Lestrade asked for his help to solve another case.

But he hated him. He hated him for putting him through this pain, he hated that he couldn't move on. He hated the guilt that overwhelmed him every second of everyday. The same question's on his mind. Maybe if he stayed with him on that day. If he stayed with him instead of running to Ms Hudson maybe things would be different. Maybe he would still be alive? But the most important question was why? He wanted to know why he killed himself? Why he left him? and why he had to lie to him? These questions were driving him insane, but if John had one final chance to talk to him, he would tell him how much he loved him... John never expressed those words to Sherlock, he hated himself for it. He wanted Sherlock back, he wanted those nights were they just held each other without words needed to tell each other what they were thinking. He wanted to taste him again, feel his warm, tendered lips. He would do anything to get Sherlock back. He tried to move on but he felt as if he was pushing Sherlock away, losing the memories they had once shared. The only way he could deal with his death, the loneliness was by drinking. Never did John think he would have to rely on alcohol to comfort him. He'd seen his friends and colleagues die at war. The people he loved and cared for had all died on the battle field, never once did he turn to drink to comfort him.

Sherlock was different. Sherlock was the only man he could ever love and will be the last man he could ever love. Something happened to him that day. Something no one could ever fix.

It came to a point in John's life where he couldn't live another second without Sherlock. He could only come up with one possible solution that could bring them together. He decided that day that no matter what everyone else thought he would be with Sherlock again. The man that made his life complete.

John placed his chair in front of him, tying the knot around his neck. The rope was firmly attached to the ceiling of the flat. John balanced himself on the chair steadying himself. He took one last look at the flat he and Sherlock shared and remembered the memories that was once contained in each of the rooms. He felt happy for the first time in months. He knew he was going to see Sherlock again.

Loud crashes came from the hall, the noises getting louder and louder as if someone was walking towards him. A tall dark figure appeared to walk through the door frame.

John turned to see what the noise was. At first he thought he was seeing things, surely this was just a figure of his imagination again seeing Sherlock before he died, and he smiled, until he noticed Sherlock's expression. Sherlock dropped everything and ran towards John shouting.

'JOHN'

John spun around even further. But as John spun around to stare directly at Sherlock his foot slipped, losing his balance he knocked the chair that stood beneath him.

The last sight John ever saw was Sherlock in front of him trying to catch him, tears forming at the side of his eyes. "JOHN!" Sherlock untied the knot around his neck, catching him before he fell. "John" Sherlock sat cuddling John for days, never once did Sherlock leave John's side, crying rocking John back and forth repeating the same words 'I'm sorry.'