Note: You know the drill. I don't own any characters, they are from BBC's Sherlock and before that hundreds of people made Arthur Connan Doyles' characters dance. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction so if you could please review? I would be very grateful.
I want to fly. I want to jump at the ground and miss. I want to fly away from my pain, but no matter where I go, he isn't there. Sherlock, oh god I miss you. Why did you fall? Why did you tell that lie? Why did I fall for you? Why couldn't I fall for you? Why don't I fall for you? Falling is like flying only with the hard cement stained with your blood at the end. I will join you Sherlock. I think it was decided when you hit the ground. I will join you. To the end we are together. The staircase is longer than I thought, but then the roof is a long way up. Just a moment Sherly, I'll be there with you, just wait one more moment. You know Mrs Hudson heart couldn't take the news. She died in my arms just hours after you fell. She didn't have to live without you. I fell for you so long ago now I'll fall for you all over again. This is where you stood, above the street on Bart's rooftop, just a moment. I have a crowd too, same time of day, just one week after you were here. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sherlock I-
Inside Sherlock slammed his hand against the cool glass window. "John" he whispered as a single tear ran down his cheek. There was no point without John. No reason for a continued existence. John had made him feel intensely, one week was difficult without him, how could he stand a lifetime? He ran up the stairs and covered the ledge in one great stride. "I love you John" he thought just before he landed with one arm bent unnaturally wrapping itself around John. Together they lay as people rushed to see if either were alive. Even in death they were perfect together.
Molly sat at home a bottle of wine in her hand and an empty bottle or three on the floor near her. "Why?" she muttered. "Why did I fall for you?" She cried and cried and not a thing in this world would ever fix the pain she felt. No amount of time would heal this pain. She had identified three bodies today. Sherlock, John and Mrs Hudson; her heart gave out after she heard the news. All she could do was lean against Lestrade as they both drank and cried for the good men, and their ruined careers. The day had come, thought Lestrade, Sherlock was not just great, but good. Now he is dead, twice, with John. Why did I fall for you?
Holding hands the happy couple walked to the roof of Bart's. Together they admired the view, tears welled up in their eyes and Molly turned and wrapped her arms around Greg. They counted down and for the third time in two months the pavement was stained bright red with the blood of the innocent angels.
Why did we fall for you?
Why did you fall for us?
Why must they all fall down from grace?
Because every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain and baby, that's Jim's way.
On the other side of London a man stood at the foot of a double bed. A notebook lay open on the bed, inside the pages were filled with one name "Jim Moriarty" over and over again. Every possible space was covered in that name. A tear leaked out of the man's eye as they settled on the notebook. "I love you" he whispered as he pulled the trigger and fell onto the bed, his brains exploding all over the floor.
Without the lamp of angels and villains those who followed are lost. Without the genius there is nothing left in this world. Molly Hooper, Gregory Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Sebastian Moran, and John Watson all understood this. Only Sherlock Holmes understood that genius was worthless without his conductor of light, John Watson. All Donovan and Anderson understood was promotion, which they recieved.