He couldn't breathe. It couldn't happen, it wasn't happening.

"I owe you a fall, Sherlock." "I'll burn the heart out of you." "I owe you." "Don't be scared. Falling is like flying only with a more permanent destination."

It wasn't fair.

And yet he was falling into the void.

And yet he was falling….

And yet….

He was falling….

Falling….

Falling….

Down.

He can't get up….no, he couldn't get up. He wasn't getting up. Not if he was to keep everyone safe.

John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade…everyone.

Mycroft told him that caring wasn't an advantage. He was a Holmes, he wasn't supposed to have friends.

"Alone protects me."

"No, friends protect you."

They were crowding now. He never liked these people. They created this. But he was used to this. Keep the illusion going.

John.

John.

He wanted so desperately to get back up, to not be down. To have not fallen.

I've fallen and I can't get up, John.

I can't.

It's for the best, really. As long as he stays down then John stays safe. It's for the best. Really.

Really?

Isn't it for the best?

If he stayed down, then he stays up. Everyone stays up.

He wished he could have someone down there with him.

Even that bugger, Anderson, at this point. He wasn't picky.

As long as it wasn't John.

John needed to stay up. He was human, could recover. He could heal and forget.

He wasn't. He was alone, disliked, too brilliant.

If John were to fall it would kill him.

But how desperately he needed to get up, tell John it was ok, that he did it to save him.

That would defeat the purpose of falling and being down, wouldn't it?

No, he had to stay down. To have fallen.

But it hurts…

He wanted to make it stop, but the only way to stop it was to wait until he had dismantled the height of the fall.

But he had already fallen. How could he ever face John again?

He couldn't.

John may be human, but he feared that ever getting back up after John had picked up his own broken pieces would hurt him. Make him fall. Make him stay down. Forever.

It was for the best, right?

To fall?