Falling.

Prologue.

Dépaysement: When someone is taken out of their own familiar world into a new one.

"Sherlock?" She whispered softly, trying her very hardest to mask the pain that flooded her body.

"You've gained weight." The consulting detective replied as his fingertips lightly danced across the burn marks that covered her wrists, ignoring the hisses coming from her lips as he did so. "Seven or eight pounds." He finished, completely entranced by the damage against her skin and avoiding much more than just her eye contact.

"Do you…regret…" she hesitated, it had been so much easier to say in her head. "Me?" The young woman's voice suddenly cracked as the last word left her tongue. Eleven weeks of heavy tension between the two had finally erupted. And it was now, of all moments, when she was donned in nothing but her undergarments because Sherlock never felt the need to knock in regards to her flat. It was her last night at Baker Street, the final time she would ever see her detective.

He was silent as his eyes shifted from her arms to her face.

"Was everything…Am I…" she broke away, looking down at her bare stomach, overwhelmed with nothing but shame. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her he was sorry, to understand what he was doing to her, but this was Sherlock Holmes, the high functioning sociopath, the man who would never admit feelings, who would never admit weakness.

"Am I…a mistake?"
"Yes."

"He said that to you?" Ruby Jones asked the same young woman who sitting next to her on this seventeen hour flight. A conversation between two strangers on an airplane was not uncommon and when it was between two women, men were bound to come up. "That's the last thing he said to you?"

"Yep."

"The nerve of some men, especially to you, and on Christmas! That was yesterday, you know!"

"I'm very aware of that." She replied with an unintentional bitterness.

The elderly New Yorker then continued to rant and bumble about how her faithful husband of forty-seven years still managed to ruffle her feathers from time to time. But Nora Luvalle, with her slender fingers tightly gripping her cell phone, waiting for the exact second it was safe to turn on, only pretended to listen to her. Because today was December 26th and she was just minutes away from seeing her family, her new home, and a new familiarity that wasn't Baker Street or the violin playing at four in the morning or the severed body parts in her refrigerator or the impatient footsteps pacing above her bedroom.

"Nora?"

"Huh?" she nervously replied, her mind failing to focus on anything other than the nausea beginning to surface when the plane suddenly dropped several feet in preparation for landing.

"Are you going to be all right?" There was a blunt and almost insulting honesty in her tone. Ruby Jones, while charming, was just a stranger. Her skin was a dark, faded chocolate color that perfectly complimented her caramel painted lips. The creases along her mouth and cheeks told several stories and her deep, dark eyes held so many years in them. But in the end, she was just a face; a face that in a few days, Nora would ultimately forget.

She was a forgettable woman, a stranger on a plane, but Ruby Jones knew more than most.
And right now, she knew more than Sherlock Holmes.

"Yeah. Charlie and Jude are gonna get me through this. I'll be fine."

"You're a lucky woman, having two older brothers to look after you." Ruby assured, gently giving Nora's thigh a slight pat. "I'm the youngest of eight sis-"

"Charlie is short for Charlotte." Nora interrupted, finally breaking eye contact with the New Yorker because it hurt too much. It had been months since that first night on Baker Street but it remained so vivid in her mind.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Holmes but Charlie is short for Charlotte."
"Charlotte is your older sis-"
"Mhm!"
"Damn!"
"You okay?"
"Again! Sister?! It's always something…"

Nora looked Ruby at now, for the first time in several minutes, and she was incredibly frustrated. Not by the gossip or the envy of a long lasting marriage. Ruby had brought her back to reality, and reality was heartbreaking. She wasn't in the upstairs flat. She wasn't with John doing whatever the hell they would probably be doing. She wasn't clinging on to Sherlock's wrists as they ran through the streets, each breathless pant between them intertwining with a silent smile and his eyes occasionally looking back to her. Those eyes that challenged the beauty of stars and always claimed victory, she would never see them again. And that made her want to cry, because she would always have to settle for second best. She was leaving London. She was leaving them. Her best friend and her…

Mistake.

"Do you wanna see a picture of him?" she whispered absentmindedly, staring out of the window. She started digging into her satchel before she could properly accept or decline because really, it wasn't Ruby she was asking. Ruby was expecting a Polaroid, maybe a four by six print of the so called 'consulting detective' but in a pleasant surprise, a sketchbook was pulled out. There was franticness in Nora's fingertips as she brushed past the dozens of delicate pages until she got to a certain one near the back.

This was her favorite. The drawing of the man and his instrument, playing so passionately, so brilliantly, into the lonely hours of the night. Nora stared at it for a second before scooting it over for Ruby to properly see. There was a lurch in her stomach as she gazed at it. The memory of the night she drew it flooded her into her mind, as if she was right back in that room watching him as he played. She sketched delicately, trying to perfect every curl of his hair, trying so hard to get the arch of his cheekbones just right. He'd closed his eyes as he glided the bow across the strings; he was lost in his thoughts, in his music. It was the only time he ever seemed at peace and Nora was desperate to convey that beauty in her recreation of him.

"That's him? He's quite handsome." Ruby commented, her eyes taking in every detail of the dark haired, slender musician. Nora sighed quietly as she closed her eyes, remembering.

"You play beautifully. Is that an original piece?"
"Yes. I compose when I'm thinking."
"Your thoughts must be just as equally beautiful then."
"If you find incredibly, intense complexities to be beautiful, then I suppose…you'd be correct."
"Oh I do, Mr. Holmes."

She remembered that night like it had just happened though it was months ago now. She had stared at him all night; he'd seemed so comfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. She was studying him, taking all of him in. He was never more beautiful to her than in that moment. She wanted to remember him just as he was in that brief crack in time. It was just him and her in all the world. No one else mattered. No one else even existed. It was like the world fell away and all there was was him. She knew he'd never return her feelings but she couldn't help it. She just let the warm feeling of being near him envelope her because in that moment, she was happy.

And then her eyes snapped open. It hurt too much to remember something so wonderful when nothing was anymore.

"Yeah…that's Sherlock Holmes." She replied in a hoarse whisper, her right hand making contact with the face of the man on the paper. It was a small but incredibly desperate reach, as if he were there because she wanted him to be. She wanted to see the intense look that adorned his face when he completely lost himself in his own thoughts; she wanted to hear the gorgeous melodies that flooded the entire building without a single interruption or request to cease. But above everything else, Nora wanted nothing more than for him to actually feel her hand, her fingers against the cold, porcelain skin on his cheekbones. Because she needed to feel him. Because she never would again. Because the first night she did, that long, desperate night in September, seemed so far away now. It all felt like a dream, like she was remembering the memories of a stranger. Mile by mile, he was slipping away from her. He was only a memory now and she couldn't bear it.

"Nora..."
"Sherlock Holmes, you are…"
"A freak?"
"No. Never. You are…the most… incredibly intense, complex man I've ever met."

Because that night.
The consequences of that night.
It hurt too much.

Ruby continued to chatter but her voice faded away as the memories started flashing one by one in her mind. She knew thinking of these things would only serve to cause her more pain. But clearing her mind of her life with John and Sherlock was like trying to stop the world from turning. A sickening feeling washed over her as she thought to herself that this is what it must feel like to have your life flash before your eyes. All the good and all the bad was coming back to her no matter how hard she tried to stop, no matter how much she wanted to forget.

She'd been so caught up in remembering that night that she hadn't even noticed the plane had landed. Somewhere in the background of her thoughts, she could hear the flight attendant over the loud speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Omaha Eppley Airport. Local time is 11:13 p.m. and the temperature is currently 61 degrees."

"It would be in everyone's best interest if you went back to the states. You can't be allowed to stay here any longer."
"Mycroft, please… please don't make me go."
"To ensure safety for the both of you, there is no other option."

The tears welled in her closed eyes. She turned her head completely to the left to avoid being seen.

"For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about."

"What does it say, John?"
"Positive, Nora. It says positive."

She should have been overjoyed when all she was miserable. She'd been forced to give up her happiness to protect another. She knew it was for the best, but it didn't seem like it now. Nothing seemed the best anymore.

"Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought onboard with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight."

"Mr. Archer, on the count of three, shoot Ms. Luvalle."
"Sherlock!"
"What?!"
"I don't know the code."

Regret and anger pooled in her. She wanted to lash out; she wanted the world to know how unfair this all was. How could he have done this to her? Why had she been so easy to throw away? Had she meant nothing to him at all?

"Am I…a mistake?"
"Yes."

She suppressed a sob when she remembered that she hadn't.

"If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you."

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Miss, but is this seat taken?"
"No no, go ahead. Take it."
"Thank you. I'm Jim by the way."

She wanted her life back. She wanted her happiness back. But he snatched it away like a thief under a cloak of darkness. Everything changed when she met him.

"We remind you to please wait until inside the terminal to use any electronic devices."

"I will burn…the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"But we both know that's not quite true."

She had wanted so badly for Moriarty to have been right about that. But now, after everything, she was sure he wasn't.

"On behalf of Delta Airlines and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice night."

Her head began to spin with the enormity of what had happened. What was happening. What would soon happen. Her past, present, and future came crashing down on her and it killed her to know that after all that'd happened between them, all the pain he'd caused her, all the times he'd shown her how much he didn't care, that he was still the most important thing on her mind. It killed her that she still cared about him.

"Look after him, John."

"Nora!"

Nora jumped slightly at the urgency of the speaker. Ruby was hovering over her like a mother over a sick child. It made her uneasy to have her so close.

"Snap out of it, child. The plane's empty. You got people waitin', don't ya?" Ruby was a little too comfortable with Nora for her own liking and she was suddenly very relieved to know that she'd never have to see her again. She looked confusingly around the plane as she remembered where she was. Not London, not anymore. Omaha, right back where she started. John and Sherlock wouldn't be waiting; instead it would be Charlie and Jude. As she regained her composure, Nora realized she'd been forcefully gripping the seat handles. Her fingers creaked as she loosened her grip and rose slowly to exit the plane. She remained silent as Ruby stared at her. She pulled her bag from the overhead bin and brushed past Ruby as she walked down the aisle and into the airport. She never said goodbye.

She looked around the airport as she wheeled her carry on behind her. It felt as though it weighed a ton in her limp arm. She had no more energy left in her after the last 48 hours. She'd barely eaten during the last two days and she'd gotten only a couple hours of sleep. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. All she wanted to do right now was lay down and sleep away the next few weeks.

The small Omaha airport looked like it hadn't been renovated since the 90's. There was only one convenience stand in the middle of the terminal past the security checkpoint with waiting areas surrounding it. Save for the people on her flight, there were only employees in the airport. She stepped to the side in one of the waiting areas as the people from her flight milled out of the gate. Most of them were relieved to finally be off the flight and get to their loved ones. But Nora suddenly had a queasy feeling at the thought of seeing her brother and sister. They'd be happy to see her after all this time. They'd dote on her and ask what it was like living in London. Did they really drink that much tea? What was it like to have cars on the left side of the road? You ever get lost on the subway? Fish and chips and pints and did they seriously call them fags? They can't really call them that…

It was so overwhelming to even think about. She sat down in one of the seats and just stared. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ruby Jones hesitate near her and then keep moving on. She didn't know if she could walk out there to those happy faces. She looked around and saw that there was no one. She was alone for the first time in over a day and she felt at the same time relieved and haunted. She just sat and breathed. Her first free breaths since leaving Baker Street. But looking around again at the small, empty airport made her pine for the expanse of London. All she'd ever wanted when she was younger was to get out. And now, she was right back where she started. Had she really been gone? Had she really lived in London for nearly two years? Had any of this really happened? But more importantly, what would happen next? She shut her eyes tight and tried to command her screaming thoughts to just shut up already and give her some peace when a sweet voice called out at her.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Nora looked up bewildered at the young woman who'd interrupted her thoughts. She had long, straight blonde hair and was wearing a uniform. The expression on Nora's face must have changed what the girl was going to say. He face went from looking civil and polite to looking concerned.

"Are…you all right?" The girl asked Nora.

"I'm fine," Nora answered in a monotone voice. The girl was not convinced. She sat down next to Nora who was oddly comforted by this stranger's presence.

"Um…listen. The staff usually don't let people sit here alone this late. No one around to watch the stuff," she said as she waved her hand towards the convenience stand in the center of the room. "But…you take your time." It was as though the girl knew something Nora didn't, as though she looked right through her and understood that all Nora really needed was a minute to herself. A minute to breath and think and cry and mourn what was dead and gone. She put her hand reassuringly on Nora's shoulder before she got up and walked away. The click on her heels against the hard tile floors echoed after her.

Nora's eyes welled with tears as she watched the girl leave. The stranger had offered her more comfort in her few words and the promise of a moment's solitude than anyone had before her. The girl was kind to her in a way that he never had been and it made her heart break because of it. She finally let it out as the first tear fell silently down her face. She sat in the chair as she cried for all the things that would never be, all the memories she'd never make with John, the closure she'd never feel with Sherlock. It was all gone.

Her tree in Regent's Park. Gone.

Bakerloo Line. Gone.

Sainsbury's. Gone.

The British Museum. Gone.

Baking with Mrs Hudson. Gone.

Sunday roasts with John. Gone.

Trying to explain what ranch dressing was. Gone.

Sherlock examining God-knows-what in the microscope.

Sherlock listening to Glenn Miller with me.

Sherlock giving me that look because Anderson's talking. Again.

Sherlock barging in to say there's a case.

Sherlock arguing over "zebra" and "bathroom" and "chips" and "pants."

Sherlock yelling that the kettle's on.

Sherlock playing the violin.

Gone. Gone. Gone. It was all gone.

The weight of it all was too much. And so she just cried. Because there was no forgetting any of it. Because there was no getting any of it back.

Several minutes passed while Nora sat in the chair. She'd leaned over so her elbows were digging into her knees. She didn't look up until she'd heard her phone ding that she'd received a new message. She wiped her eyes and winced as the blood began to flow into her legs again. As she reached for her phone, she got that excited feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her subconscious was telling her that there was no way it could be Sherlock, but what did that matter when the possibility existed? She held the phone in her hand for a few moments before plucking up the courage to turn it on. She kept telling herself that he had texted her. Surely by now, he'd figured out that she was gone. Maybe, just maybe, he felt ashamed, he felt regret, for everything he had said, everything he had done. It could be fixed. It could be resolved. And she could come home.

She had to check her phone. She had to know. Right now.

She flipped the phone on and let out a shaky, excited breath.

3 New Messages.

Please…

Text me when you've landed. -JW

2418 Ravenwood Rd. -MH

We're here and waiting! : ) –CL

That was the breaking point. This hurt more than anything ever had before. More than the burns against her delicate flesh, more than those last words exchanged. The truth was so heavy against her chest that Nora was thankful she was sitting down or else her legs would have given out from under her.

She remained silent, not moving, not feeling. This was her reality. She was in Omaha and life would have to go on without him. Charlotte and Jude were here, they would get her through this. But she knew it wouldn't be enough, not for her. She was giving up so much, sacrificing everything. And he would never know, he could never know. And in this moment, she hated him for it.

New Message To: Sherlock Holmes

Goodbye, Sherlock. -NL

To Be Continued.

A/N: First off, none of this would even be remotely possible without my incredibly talented Beta and very good friend, katestrophic. I consider this story our "love child" because so much appreciation for BBC's Sherlock went into creating this story. We have such big plans and surprises coming your way and we're just so excited to share with all of you. Please take the time to review and welcome to Falling.