John looked into the mirror for the 52th time that morning. His hair stuck up in every direction and his nose was runny and pink. His eyes were red and puffy and he could feel the sweat dripping from his head down to his feet. But he shivered as he huddled under his bedsheets suffocating himself amongst the quilts. He held his hands to his ears to muffle out the noise. He even squeezed his eyes to rid the picture. But he never forgot it. He never forgot him.
He would see Sherlock's blue-green eyes sparkling in the lakes while he took long walks to clear his mind. He found his curly hair in the angry storm clouds and his frustrated, "I'm bored John," stomping during loud thunderstorms. He could spot his smile in the shiney charming stars and John had even seen his body mimicked by shop mannequins. He could hear Sherlock's deep voice in the midst of crowds and he could almost feel his breath against his skin during a soft breeze.
And amongst every dream he found Sherlock in a nightmare, at the top of St. Bart's.
And every night cried until the the sun began to crack into the sky.
He gripped his chest feeling his lungs burning as he quivered against the bed sheets. It had been over 2 and a half years since Sherlock jumped and left him. But John felt him jumping every day and every night, and it never stopped..
After laying in a pile of his tears and sweat, he got up and wiped his eyes. He turned to his drawer and got out his jumper he knew Sherlock hated the least. He sniffed and smiled gently.
I'm coming for you.
So John had finally made up his mind. He was going to join Sherlock. There was no more waiting in false lies and silly fantasies. He wasn't trying to find things to keep him alive anymore.
It was him. Always him to keep me alive. All this time.
John knew eventually it would come to this. He waited long enough for some miracle or some calling. Anything. But Sherlock never came back. He never arisen from the dead. He never ever stopped jumping, and falling, and crashing, right in front of John's eyes.
John let another stream of guilt hit him heaving out a breathe.
He visited Sherlock's grave last night, just before he made up his mind to "join," him.
He sat on the cold ground and told him he was sorry. Sorry for not being there when Sherlock needed him most. He was disgusted with himself for being the worst friend and he felt so stupid for not realizing how upset and awful Sherlock must have been to feel the need to die. John pleaded on his knees for Sherlock to not be upset with him. He begged for him to be happy when he saw him. He hoped he would not kick him away because John was sorry he let him face what he felt on his own.
Sherlock was absolutely brilliant. Not a fake, or a sham. He was a wonderful man with his flaws. And John loved every bit of it. Every bit of him. And Sherlock had never known.
He breathed out slowly.
It's time now.
John showered and slipped on his clothes. He checked the mirror one last time. His eyes were tired but his hair was fixed, his jumper clean, and his shirt ironed. He looked well enough to be reunited.
He walked and he kept walking and he didn't stop until he was where Sherlock had stood on top of that building, staring right into John's eyes saying goodbye.
But goodbye didn't have to mean forever.
He felt a single tear roll down his eye but he smiled. He felt so happy and spread his arms reaching towards the sky.
He took one step and-
"JOHN."
He felt a long slender hand grab his wrist forcefully pulling him back.
He stumbled and fell. He sat there confused his back away from the man that stopped him. He knew that voice.
Turning slowly he gazed.
"Sherlock?"
He was visibly wrecked with tears. His eyes were bloodshot his hair was wiffy and he looked as if he hadn't eaten in years.
Three years to be exact.
John stood and stepped back stumbling.
"Oh crap. I've gone completely loony."
Sherlock stepped forward grabbing his arms but John was wriggling out of them.
"No John. It's really me. I'm sorry let me explain I-"
John held up a single finger, "No-o, no you don't you're just some figure of my consciousness trying to keep alive. No, I am doing this."
He tried stomping back but Sherlock gripped him tighter.
"No you're not John, look at me."
He grabbed his face forcing him to stare into his eyes.
"It's me. John. It's me."
John tried to moved his face and eventually stared into them and sobbed. He ripped himself from Sherlock's embrace and wailed onto the floor. He sunk to his knees feeling his whole body shut down.
Holding his head into his hands the muffled words, "No. You died. I saw it."
"No. John. It was a lie. I just. I can explain later."
Sherlock had moved onto the ground placing his arm around John's shoulder crying with him.
"I'm sorry John."
"This isn't real. This isn't real."
He got up and screamed, "THREE. Three years Sherlock."
He started walking fast towards the edge, "No. You can't stop me. You're not really here. I need to find you. The real you."
He snapped back towards the him for one last look, "I need to tell you I'm sorry and that I love you and I miss you. I need the Sherlock I let die and not the one in my mind."
He shook his head hoping his consciousness would wipe the figure he thought wasn't alive away, "So get out of my head. Don't talk me out of this. Please leave me alone and let me do this."
Sherlock started to run towards him, "No!"
John stepped over and let the air take him down..
"John!"
Sherlock pounced as he saw the only man he ever loved about to vanish from the ledge. He saw one foot go over as he screamed flinging half his body over the roof to catch him.
He snatched John's leg and held onto it with as much force as he could muster.
"You are not dying on me."
John was screaming and wailing like a small child, squirming and wriggling wishing to fall.
It struck him with realization and pain and anger that this man was real. And that Sherlock was clutching onto him and he was not some figure his mind he had made up. But a man holding him, keeping him from falling. He screamed and he tried to fight the tears.
His mind raced and he wiggled screaming, How it can't. He can't. No...Why...How?
Below them people were gathering around looking at John's dangling body and Sherlock desperately holding on to him. One could hear a woman scream as police started to gather around the area.
Sherlock began to pull John back onto the roof, even as the man thrashed around.
It felt so long trying to moved securely back on the roof but he had done it. And when he had he wrapped his arms around John so hard even as Sherlock felt weak arms hitting him during soft cries.
"You're actually here. But...but how."
John laid his head into Sherlock's chest continuously sobbing.
Sherlock has joined his cries and rubbed his back. He pulled back John's face and rubbed away his tears peering into his eyes.
John wanted to move away from him but he didn't know how.
He whispered, "Sherlock. How could you. I loved you. How could you leave me thinking you died. Was I so bad? Why did you abandon me?"
Sherlock's heart withered at the sound of John's croaking voice assuming he had done something wrong..
"John, no please. I never stopped being with you. I had to leave you couldn't know."
"You weren't here! Why couldn't I know. It was hell with you gone."
"It was to protect you. Please, John. I know it was wrong, but listen I had to keep you safe."
He yelled, "Sherlock I lived in misery. Not knowing you were still alive. Thinking I had let you die. Not understanding why. Sherlock..."
Sherlock tried to embrace him further but John pulled away, but still let Sherlock's arm remain around his body.
"John, leaving was the hardest thing I had to do. I missed you so much. I couldn't do anything while I was away except get rid of Moriarty's henchmen so I could return to you. You, John. You kept me going."
"You could've left a note a signal..."
"I was afraid they'd kill you."
"You almost killed me."
"John I'm sorry."
"Three years. And I loved you all this time. And the thought of you dying was slowly killing me."
"John, I'd always loved you. And not being able to be around you. Not knowing if you were still waiting for me, practically ended me."
John collapsed against Sherlock's body.
"I'm still so mad. I'm so angry. But I just want to hold you right now."
Sherlock and John laid on the roof and bundled together legs intertwined. John's head rested in the crook of Sherlock's neck with his arms placed gently around the other man's torso. Sherlock rubbed John's arms placing small kisses against his forehead.
"I promise I'll never leave you again. I love you."
John just gripped him tighter kissing him softly on the lips, "I love you too."