I can't believe that I am standing here. Right above me is where my best friend was before he jumped. I'm standing right where his head cracked the pavement. As I look up, I have to ask what he was thinking in his final moments. Was he thinking about me? I know he was thinking about me. I know that Sherlock was thinking about me. He knew that I was going to continue a life of hell, without him there. I'm standing up on the roof with his letter to me in my hands. I've read this letter so many times that I have it committed to memory. Even though I have it memorized, I look at it every time I read it. I read it to know that Sherlock wrote this, to know that he was a real person in my life.
Before I had received the note, I was broken, no destroyed, after his death. for days, I just stayed locked in my room. I couldn't believe that Sherlock was gone. I hadn't cried till I went to his grave after the funeral. I wanted to speak, I really did. I couldn't though, the words and thoughts never came to me. I cried at his grave because I was really the only one who truly knew Sherlock. All of these stories were about a man who was a complete dick, who had no emotions, a man who was a machine. Sherlock was not a complete dick. He was the greatest friend that I ever had. Sherlock may not have seem like he had emotions, but he did. He truly felt for people and wanted to help them. He was not a machine, he was a human being. Two months after he died, I got the courage to go into his room. I don't know why it took me so long to go in there. When I went in there, I stood for a few minutes. Everything was the same, just like he kept it. As I looked at the bed, I noticed the note. I picked it up, taking a seat on Sherlock's bed. It was addressed to me. Seeing this letter gave me a sense of hope. I had been expecting Sherlock to walk through the door at any moment. This was how he was getting in contact with me.
Dear John,
I know that if you are reading this letter, I have died. I can't tell you how my death will effect you, but I know that you will be heartbroken. I have something I need to tell you. I knew that Moriarty was going to attempt to kill me. I knew that he was going to plan a suicide for me. Following his plan was much better than the alternative. I have an incurable form of liver cancer. I've known about it since Moriarty took you hostage. My doctor gave me about two years to live. I was going to tell you about it before I died, but plans accelerated quicker than. I thought. I wish that I could have told you, maybe spend my remaining years with you but I wasn't able to. I am sorry that you have to live with everyone thinking that I was a fake. I want you to know that I love you. Yes, I know that you love me and I wish that I could have told you how I felt. You kept denying that we weren't together, which made me doubt my observation of your love for me. If I am right, that you don't love me, then I am glad that I kept my secret to myself. If I am wrong, I am sorry for never telling you. Had I told you, who knew what type of life we could have lived together. I am sure that you love me.
While I lived with this cancer, I thought about what a soul mate is. A soul mate is someone who is a best friend, but more. It's the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else. It is someone who inspires you to be a better person. A soul mate is someone who you can carry with you forever. It's the one person who knew you and accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. No matter what happens you will always love them, nothing will change that. When I realized that this is what a soul mate is, I knew that I had found mine. You are my soul mate. You are more than my best friend. You know me better than anyone in the world and you make me want to be a better person. You believed in me when no one else would. I will always love you because you are my soul mate. John, you have been the greatest flat mate, friend, and soul mate that anyone could ever want.
I am sorry for everything that I have done to you and I ask one thing of you. I need you to keep fighting for me. I need to you fight for me as a person, but I need you to fight to stay alive. I don't want my death to take your life from you. You are a very good man and I don't want to be the person that led to your destruction. I'm sorry for all of this.
From, Sherlock
I wish that he had told me how he felt because I feel the same way. I love Sherlock. I stand on that rooftop on this dark night knowing that I now have a similar fate. I was diagnosed with a form of incurable brain cancer. I stand on this same rooftop, the one that Sherlock stood on, and I wonder if he thought about his cancer, if he thought taking his life would be better to the alternative. I step onto that ledge and I can see where I stood that day. After looking at the letter, I put the letter in my jacket pocket, the one closest to my heart. Sherlock is there because he is my soul mate. The only thing I regret about being with Sherlock is not telling him how I feel. My life would be so much different had I told him how I tells me to fight, to keep living. The cancer is killing me from the inside out. I can't fight anymore.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I can't fight anymore." I whispered, looking up in the sky.
There are no tears that come to my eyes as I spread my arms out and fell off the roof and into my soul mates' arms