Hey Hey it's me again...although you don't really know me but who cares...so anyways this is my first Johnlock fic and I hope you guys like it. Also I don't own this characters even though I wish I do but this is all from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC network but the plot and story is mine. Anyways I don't want to bored you so without further ado here is the story.


Sherlock knew that he was hallucinating. He knows that it was just an excerpt from his memory. John was gone, he was dead. It has

been three years since he died in Afghanistan, shot straight to his heart. He still remembered that day when he found out. He was at

home with Lestrade bugging him about the way he treated the victims when they both stop talking to each other as they both heard a

knock on the door. He could still feel the dread as he opened it and saw Mycroft outside. It was odd that his older brother didn't greet

him like way he usually does but instead handed him a letter. He looked at Mycroft then back at the letter as he felt fear inching closer

to him. He remembered reading it over and over and falling down on his knees not caring that his older brother saw him cry over his

lost lover. He didn't care that Lestrade was there watching him nor did he care that the older Holmes cradled him in the living room like

a child. John was dead. He was gone. He had left Sherlock and Sherlock couldn't do anything to bring him back. It seemed ironic two

years ago Sherlock was the one that left John but now it was John that had left him and he was not coming back. His lover, his world

his heart was gone. It took Sherlock months and about a year to get out of his house and yet he still feels the emptiness in his heart

and life that hunts him everyday. Everything reminded him of John; the sky, the warmth of the sun, the smell of tea, everything. And

now hallucinations of John were everywhere. It started with small things, John's laughter and his warm touches on Sherlock's shoulder

and neck. Then it turned into full bodied images of John, he would see him sitting on his favorite chair while reading a newspaper, he

would see John running beside him in cases, laughing at something on the telly, standing beside him at the laboratory in St. Bart's,

sitting on the couch typing on his blog, and waking up beside him (that one kills him the most). He misses John so much. he knew they

were just tricks that his mind played on him but he couldn't help but go along with what he see's. He want's it to be so true that John

was there that sometimes he would just play along. But today he couldn't take it anymore. Sherlock knows that even with such

hallucinations John was still not there. He was buried six feet underground in the cemetery. He knows this and it kills him inside. Which

brings him to the situation he is in right now. He was standing at the top of St. Bart's hospital just like last time except this time there

was no Moriarty, no assassins he has to kill, and no John to beg him to stop what his doing. And as Sherlock took in the scenery while

taking one last deep breathe he closed his eyes and let himself fall. He was falling, falling into darkness, saying goodbye to his life and

as he counted the last moments he hope to see John waiting for him.


So what do you think guys? I know this is sad but at least they would be together again right? Anyways sorry for the mistakes if you see any since I didn't beta'd this story or any of my stories for that matter. But I hope you guys enjoyed this. Anyways feel free to comment.