A/N I only recently got into Sherlock, so hopefully this isn't too out of character. I saw "The Reichenbach Fall" and I KNEW I had to write this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of it's characters or plots.
"It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"
What was he getting at? He didn't mean...no. Impossible. "Leave a note when?"
"Goodbye, John."
I shook my head. "No-don't-" I stuttered, looking up at him. The tail of his coat flapped behind him as he tossed his phone to the side.
"Sherlock!" I screamed desperately as he spread out his arms. I watched in horror as he leaned forward.
And then he allowed himself to fall.
"Sherlock..." I breathed. It became surreal, and he was falling, dropping like a stone through the air. I don't remember seeing his feet leave the rooftop. Suddenly, he was falling, and I was running, faster than I'd ever run before.
Everything was moving in slow motion, and I wasn't fast enough, and I was never fast enough.
It would never be enough. Because he would always hit the ground.
His final moments echoed in my dreams in the months to come...every night, every minute, every second... and every time, every single bloody time...I was just a moment too late.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Absently, in the back of my mind, I felt myself collide with something. I made a painful connection with the wet pavement, ignored the ringing in my ears as I picked myself up.
People were gathering by the time I reached him. "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please," I heard myself mumble as I fought the tangle of arms that separated us. "He's my friend, he's my friend, please." A young man wearing a stethoscope was crouched beside him already, checking his pulse and rubbing his shoulder. I reached for his hand and pressed my fingers to his wrist.
Dammit, Sherlock! This isn't funny! Open your goddamn eyes!
I dropped his hand, reaching desperately for him as I was pulled away. "Please...let me just..." I pleaded to the people holding me back. I felt myself sink to my knees as someone rolled him over. Sherlock's once curly hair was now soaked in his own blood.
"Jesus no...god no..." A voice said thickly. I initially didn't recognize it as my own.
Please, Sherlock. Stop this. Stop it. Just wake up now.
I watched as the body—his body—was lifted onto a stretcher and wheeled away.
My best friend.
Just one more miracle for me, Sherlock. One more thing. Don't be dead.