"Make me a promise here tonight, love like a tidal wave.
Dreamless in early graves, I never want it to be this way.
The chemicals will bring you home again.
This is it, when it's done, we can say that,
When it's sudden death we fight back."

-Pierce the Veil

John hung his head down, walking out of the clinic. Sarah followed him from behind, an arm around his shoulder. The words that the doctor said to him lingered his brain. The only thing that he could hear is:

Cancer... cancer... cancer.

Replayed over and over in his head like a broken record that will refuse to shut off. John would do anything for it to stop. The sorrow on the doctor's face has he walked in. The scene was unforgettable. Sarah was there for him the entire time though. After Sherlock's fall, she helped him cope with the pain but, how is she going to help now? Knowing that John will soon die too. Mrs. Hudson would be broken without her boys.

On the ride in the cab, John didn't say a word, neither did Sarah. They were too shocked to comprehend what just happened and when John did try to speak, words never came out. Not like how he used to speak normally.

First Sherlock.

Second John.

"I'll make you some tea, is that okay?" Sarah asked from the kitchen, already reaching for a cup.

"Yeah." John tried to say loudly but the words choked him. Thankfully, Sarah understood so he didn't have to repeat himself, causing more pain in his chest.

The next day, John was taken into the hospital to do his first chemotherapy treatment. He spent half of the day vomiting and the other half laying in the hospital bed, watching the telly. Molly decided to stop by and give him a bouquet of flowers, very sweet of her to do such a thing.

John had time to think, Sherlock will be waiting on the other side. Right?

When the cancer has finally beaten him, he'd be with Sherlock again. Like old times. The times that he missed and to make up all of the chances he could have had to tell Sherlock that he loved him.

I love you, Sherlock Holmes.

And for once, John wasn't afraid to die.

After a week, John was weak. The cancer spread fast. No longer to work nor walk. The hospital room was lonely, nothing but the bouquet of flowers in the vase that Molly gave him after his first chemo.

There was a knock at the door and Lestrade popped in, behind was Sally and Anderson. He never liked Sally and Anderson, they always picked on Sherlock for being himself but now, it doesn't matter. As long as he had people who care. Lestrade sat at the end on the bed, stroking John's foot.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. Anderson was sniffing the flowers whist Sally sat in a chair, giving John the sympathetic look.

"Horrible." John managed to get out. Lestrade gave out a sigh, hanging his head low.

Anderson patted Lestrade's back, "It's okay." He said in his ear. Sally bent down to give John a hug, squeezing him tight.

"Get well, John. We lost Sherlock, we don't want to loose you too." Lestrade said behind his hands, "I will be lost without either of you two. Sherlock's gone. I depend on you."

"I'm not into guilt trips right now, Lestrade." John said.

"Just, stay strong and take care." A tear broke free and he wiped it away, "Come on, we need to be back at the yard." The three left the room.

John was alone.

He wants to die, he wants to see Sherlock. But he doesn't want to let down Lestrade.

Sarah was watching John for the past month. Through the chemotherapy and the spiking fevers, John has had it. He's done. His hair was gone and he wants to move on. He could barely see, everything was blurry. John held on to Sarah's wrist,

"It's time." John whispered. Fear was washed over her face.

"Are you sure?"

"I want to go. I'm in pain, Sarah. I'm done fighting."

"Do you want me to call the nurse in to give you the injections?" John nodded.

Please, I want to see Sherlock again.

I'm coming for you, Sherlock.

Sarah left and came back with the nurses, rolling a tray across the room with the needle filled with the chemicals to end it all. John had a wide smile across his face. He can't wait. He stared at the ceiling, holding his arm out for the injections. The needle was a little pinch and then felt the medicine course in his veins. I was cold but very soothing. Sarah and the nurses left, letting John die in peace.

His vision became worse, everything was just simple shapes and no details. John turned his neck to look out the window.

After a minute passed, his breathing was difficult. He heard footsteps and a familiar voice shouting,

"JOHN!"

Sherlock! Am I dead?

"John, it's me, it's Sherlock! I'm not dead, look." But for that, John couldn't see very well, only a blurry face. Sherlock lifted John's hand to his face for John to feel this features but he was numb. "I'm alive."

"Sh-sh-Sherlock." John's last words spat out. His heart slowed.

"That's it, your best friend, Sherlock Holmes. I saved your life you know." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, who had his face buried into Sherlock's chest. "I'm sorry, John. I love you." He gave John a kiss on the top of his head.

He didn't breathe.

No pulse.

"John?" Sherlock called out, still holding John in his arms. "JOHN!" Letting all the tears escape, Sherlock didn't let go. He held him closer.

Three years. Three years without John and one more time for only 2 minutes.