So this is my first time writing a Sherlock fic, also my first Johnlock so bare with me. I haven't updated anything in almost a year and I am so sorry about that, I haven't given up with my HP fics, it's just work has been damn right busy.

I do not own Sherlock, Ill leave that to Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffat.

Enjoy

Chapter 1. The Fall

The black cab pulls up outside St Bart's and he quickly jumps out, cursing himself for being so stupid. He needs to get to his husband, who he foolishly yelled at before leaving. His heart pounding he made to cross the road as his phone started ringing. His husband's name coming up on the caller ID.

"Sherlock, are you ok?" he asks worriedly continuing his hurried walk to the entrance of the hospital.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came." John blinked in confusion slowing his walk slightly.

"No, I'm coming in."

"Just do as I ask. Please." John froze. His voice sounded broken up, like he was upset about something. Sherlock never said please, ever. Something was wrong, very wrong. He started backtracking his steps.

"Where?" he asked.

"Stop there." John stopped, looking around to see where Sherlock could be.

"Sherlock."

Ok, look up. I'm on the rooftop." John looked up, dreading what he was about to see.

"Oh God," he whispered. No, this couldn't be what he thought it was, this couldn't be happening, not now. His Sherlock, his husband, his consulting detective was standing on top of the roof of St Bart's, standing precariously close to the edge.

"I-I-I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this." Do what John thought.

"What's going on?" he asked shakily, eyes no moving of of Sherlock.

"An apology. It's all true."

"What?"

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Fear gripped John's heart. God no, this could not be happening. Why was he lying?

"Why are you saying this?" he demanded. He needed to know why he was lying.

"I'm a fake." He could hear his voice breaking over the phone.

"Sherlock-"

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson and Molly. In fact tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Lies, this was all lies coming from Sherlock's mouth, and he, he couldn't seem to get his mouth to work.

"Ok, shut up, Sherlock, Shut up." He needed to take control of the situation before his hormones started coming into play again, like that had earlier when he'd called him a machine, god he wished those words had never come out of his mouth.

"The first time we met – the first time we met – you knew all about my sister, right?" his voice was shaking.

"Nobody could be that clever." Without even a thought or a doubt he replied.

"You could."

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick." Ok, now he'd had enough of this nonsense, he'd had enough of the lying.

"No, alright stop it now," he said as he started walking towards the entrance again.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." His eyes locked with Sherlock's as his husband's hand reached out to stop him, making John freeze where he was.

"Alright," he raised his hands in surrender, backing himself to the spot where he had been before.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" No he couldn't be asking this of him, this was a mistake, an experiment of some sort.

"Do what?" he dreaded the answer.

"This phone call, it's um, it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"

"Leave a note when?" he found himself saying, his heart frozen in fear, his legs felt as if they had been concreted to the floor.

"Goodbye John." No, no.

"No, don't-"but he wasn't heard, the phone already being flung aside. This wasn't happening, it couldn't happen. He couldn't let this happen he had to stop him, he had to tell him. He needed to tell him before it was too late.

"Sherlock!" he screamed. And then he was falling…falling…falling.

"Sherlock!"