"Im sorry, i just can't" he said sadly.
"You're going to have to tell me some time" she said, she hated pushing him but it was the only way he would get over it.
"You already know why I'm here, you just insist on my telling you to punish me" his tone changed, it was angrier. He clenched and unclenched his fist taking deep breaths, if he had a mental breakdown they would put him back on suisied watch.
"John, I need to hear you say it otherwise we're never going to make any progress" she tried to uphold eyecontact, but he was all over the place.
"Fine, i'm her because...because, my best frind, Sherlock holmes is...he's dead" he burst into tears unable to contain himself.
"It's okay John, just let it out" she soothed, silently relieved that he had let it out. She desperatly wanted to help him and him admitting this to himself was the first step.
When he had calmed down, she placed a warm hand on his stiff shoulder and said "so John, what wxactly happened that day?" She knew, she read the papers, but if it came from his lips she could relate better and the treatment would be more effective.
John sighed deeply "I was with because Mrs Turner had just passed away and she was having a rough time, i had left Sherlock by himself in the lab, it was so stupid of me, i should've been there."
"John, you need to stop blaming youself, this couldn't have been prevented."
"Still... well anyway i recieved a text from Sherlock telling me that he needed me on the roof of St Bart's, i came as quickly as i could." he wiped a tear from his cheak " i didn't wait for the elavator, i was too worried. when i reached the roof top, my gun was already in my hand, I would shoot to kill if necessary." he stopped.
"You're doing well John, keep going" she smiled at him trying to sound encouraginf, but John was a special case, it would take time to fix him.
" i walked around to where i could hear voices, i saw Sherlock standing with his bach to me and Moriarty pointing a gun at him. they were talking, i couldn't make out the exact conversation, but Sherlock's voice trembled, he had always been so confident and was never scared, except for this one time. i raised my gun to shoot Moriarty, but he was quicker. in under a second Sherlock was on the floor clutching his stomache. i pulled the trigger, Moriarty lay on the floor, with a smile on his face, dead. I'm sorry i cant, its too much" he began to say tearing up, but his therapist gave him a look that made him carry on." I ran to Sherlock, cradeling him in my arms, he whispered 'I'm sorry John, i love you' he died...in..my arms" he managed bofore falling to the floor in a sobbing heap.
his therapist decided that the session was over, John had really opened up, and had been through enough.