Prompt- Drowning

"John! Help!"

A desperate voice cried out, cracking slightly.

John watched in horror, unable to move away from where he was standing, as Sherlock clung on the edge of the tall, steep, rocky ravine for his life. His other cries for help were muffled out by the roar of the river's current below him. The large rock that Sherlock was grasping onto was slowly being dislodged out of it's place, if John didn't act soon then the rocks, along with Sherlock, will be swept away by the river, probably never seen again. John thought urgently for a moment, trying to think of a way he could save Sherlock without risking the lives of both of them, no ideas came to him, however, leaving Sherlock strangered where he was.

Sherlock's grip was getting loose, making him dangerously close to falling. He tried to fix his footing on the smaller rocks beside him, only to make them crumble away into the swift-paced river. He needed help, and he needed help quickly.

John took a deep breath and carefully edged his way towards Sherlock, his arm stretched out for him, making sure that his extra weight didn't cause any parts of the ravine to break away. Just one little bit of pressure could be critical.

"Grab on, Sherlock! Quickly!"

John called, his voice shaking with anticipation, their lives could end quicker than John's heartbeat. Sherlock tried to reach up without loosing grip on where he was, only to find that it was impossible.

John crouched down slightly, one foot behind him, and grabbed a hold of Sherlock's wrist, who in turn grabbed onto John's wrist. As soon as the two were interlocked, the rocks around them began fell apart, jerking them downward. There were only a few rocks to hold them, and they couldn't support both of them at the same time.

"John, just run! It's not going to hold both of us!"

John wasn't prepared to let Sherlock go, he tried to swallow- which was made difficult through his tight throat- before trying one last plan to save Sherlock. It was life-threatening, probably on the verge of certain death, but there was no way to get both of them safe.

"I know it won't.."

He rasped, unable to make himself loud at all. He pulled together his mix of desperation to get Sherlock safe and adrenalin to yank him up and thrusted him away behind him. The sudden change in movement and pressure caused the top part of the ravine to plunge into the deep waters. John had no time to get away and was therefore forced to plummet into the river with it. There wasn't time for a scream, or even a full word,

"Sher-"

He tried to call, but was unable due to the lack of air he could draw in. Wind roared around him and blasted through his dull-blond hair. Time seemed to go slower than usual when he fell, which was the completed opposite of what John wanted; because while he would then be able to see Sherlock just one more time, he could clearly see Sherlock's face in pure terror as he watched his best, and only, friend dive into the harsh currents of the river.

The river's icy-cold bite paralysed John to the core, even though it was the middle of summer, the water was still bitterly freezing.

John could barely swim away to save himself from being pulled down towards the bottom, which seemed like an endless pit. His lungs screamed for air. Petrifying terror scorched through John's mind in agony. His heart dramatically quickened in panic. All his attempts to save himself were in vain, all he could do was watch to subtle ripples of water slide from side to side until they were barely visible.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock..' He thought warily, his eyes half-closed and blurred, 'I didn't mean for it to end this way... Forgive me.. Please..'

The current then suddenly felt calmer and didn't have an effect of John at all, he felt tranquil and soothed by the feel of the water flowing on his body. In the back of his mind, he knew we was about to drown, which was why he felt so calm, but he was too tired to make any more actions; he was accepting his fate. He was going to die.

'I did it.. I did it to save you..' He thought, thinking of Sherlock; his soft, dark-brown hair, his mysterious cyan eyes and his seductive smile was engraved into John's memory, 'I'm going to miss you.. You idiot..'

John could surprisingly remember a lot from his life, particularly from his adulthood. He watched back his childhood; playing with his friends, taking a large fascination in helping people and saving lives. How he passed his test to get into medical school and to train as a doctor, and then training in the army, where he could save people's lives everyday. There were some people John couldn't save, and the regret and guilt weighed him down still to this day, but he never gave up. Then one day, when he was taking care of another wounded patient, enemy soldiers turned up at camp. John refused to leave his patient, he couldn't just let him die, so he took the shot for his friend. What else could he do? John could recall all too vividly the pain that wrathed through his shoulder, but if since he was the only doctor around, there was nobody to help him until it was almost too late. He woke up in hospital several days later with a horrific wound on his shoulder and a severe pain in his leg. His patient, his very last friend, died later that day since John couldn't help him. He was then too injured to work in the army again, and it wasn't like he would have the spirit to help save another life again. He could no longer trust himself in the hands of somebody's life. He couldn't trust himself to meet someone else, in case they would also leave him. He could no longer trust anyone.

When he was sent back to London, the only person he would see regularly was his therapist, who helped him with his PTSD. Dreadful, cruel nightmares of the men he once cared for being torn to pieces visited him every night for several weeks, he could barely up hold the sight of a gun without reviving a terrifying flashback. He considered more times then he could count to end his pointless life, for what was worth living, if one has nothing to live for? Those days were his darkest hour, but then all his worries then floated away when he met a very peculiar, but amazing man who was looking for a flat-mate. A man called Sherlock Holmes.

John wasn't sure what to think of Sherlock when they first met, a man named Mike Stamford, who John knew when he was training at Bart's Hospital, introduced them to each other. Except of course, John didn't need an introduction, for Sherlock knew almost everything about him just by looking at him. Sherlock's talent in deduction and analysis fascinated John, just the way he was able to pin-point who people were just by a few pieces of data that could be found on the person amazed him. Even though Sherlock and John were two very different people, they both had one thing in common; They knew what it was like to be so heart-brakingly lonely.

Sherlock needed someone who could give him a heart and who could prove to him that not everybody was so cruel in a way that would cause you to block out your emotions from everybody, expect from one special person, and John wanted someone who could give him the near-nostalgic feeling of adventure and someone he knew he could trust, despite everything he went through.

Sherlock was a very strange person indeed, sometimes could be cold and stubborn, but undeniably brilliant, and John loved him for it.

He saved John in more ways then he could imagine, in less than 48 hours, Sherlock and John moved in together, solved crimes that confused the entire police force, cured John of his limp and gave him a reason to live again. Those were the days he was happy living.

'I remember everything we did together,' John thought, thinking he only had a couple moments of life left, 'Thank you, Sherlock, for everything.. I couldn't have asked for a better friend..'

At that moment, John could feel something brush behind him and something dragging him towards safety, He blinked in eyes open and could just see a glimpse of someone drawing him upwards to the water's edge.

It was Sherlock.

'Sherlock!' John thought, Sherlock had a firm grasp around John as he tried to kick upwards, his arms occupied to keep a hold on him. John tried to help him, but his body was too exhausted and heavy to fight the water.

"Keep your head up!" Sherlock growled through his clenched jaw, his voice wasn't easy to hear due to the water, but John knew what he was saying.

Barely conscious, he let himself be dragged until the rough texture of sand scraped against his body and could feel air brush against his cold skin. Sherlock had saved him from the water, but wasn't sure if he could save his life.

"John? John! Wake up! You're safe now, it's all right now.."

John could hear Sherlock, his voice was full of concern. He slowly opened his blurry eyes and saw Sherlock kneeling down beside him, his hand on his sodden shoulder.

"Sherlock.." John mumbled, coughing water out of him. His head made it agonizing to think, but he tried to make an effort for him.

"Shhh.. Try not to speak., you need to save your energy.."

'But there's so much to say..' John protested silently, 'This might be the last time I see you..'

"Just.. Listen, alright? I just want to say... Thank you.." John wheezed, forcing his chest up and down, "Thank you for everything, I don't know where I'd be without you.."

Sherlock stayed silent for a second, before gently stroking John's damp hair with his hand,

"It's OK," He whispered soothingly, filling John's heart with warmth, "I owe you a lot, too. So please, don't leave me.." John looked up and could see Sherlock's face was damp with tears, which were constantly rolling down his cheeks "Please don't leave me.."

A small, weak smile drew across John's face as he rested his tired head back down. He never knew how much Sherlock had cared for him until now.

He was about to say something else, something he had been wanting to say for so long, but more water was coughed up from him, muting him. His instinct shouted at him to stay quite, but Sherlock had to know,

"Forgive me, If I do leave you.." He barely managed any more than a whisper, "I would die for you, anyway..You know I would.. I-I love you, Sherlock.."

Sherlock's eyes widened and his body shook a little,

"I.. I love you, John.." He echoed, John could sense a pang of regret in Sherlock's voice, "And now.. And now I wished I could have told you before. I've always figured I had feelings for you since the day we met, you weren't like other people; You were kind, you were understanding, you were honest but in a gentle way.. I thought we'd be together forever.. But now.."

Sherlock broke down with a wave of tears and heart-broken cries, John had never seen Sherlock so upset before. He looked into John's glassy, stormy-blue eyes and tried to make his voice heard,

"You can't die, you just can't. I.. I need you! I need you more than anything in the world! Please, I..I.."

Sherlock's voice cracked and made him choke a little. He hung his head down and took a deep, shaky breath before resting his hand on John's, who was still cold from the water,

"John, I love you, and I'll never forget you.." He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry I couldn't save you in time. You rescued me, and I wanted to save you but..."

"It's not your fault, Sherlock," John feebly interrupted him, his tired, heavily teared eyes staring up at Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to be the last thing he ever sees, "Anyway, I told you everything I needed you to know..It was an honor working with you.."

John closed his eyes once again and darkness then began to surround him, muffling out the desperate pleas from Sherlock. If John could help it, then he would have chosen to stay with him longer, but all the energy had been sapped out of him, he could no longer find the strength to stay alive. He let the darkness wash him over into a calming blackness. This was the last time he'd ever see Sherlock again, but he didn't regret it. His devoted loyalty to him speaks for itself, and John will forever wait for him in the afterlife, no matter how long he took.

'... I love you..'