Forever Without You
March 26, 2012
The first time he saw Sherlock that day was right outside his flat. He would never get used to it no matter how many times he saw that face. He knew Sherlock was dead. No matter how much it hurt it was the truth, and John had to deal with it.
But John had nothing before Sherlock, he had nothing but the memories of his years in Afghanistan. Sherlock was really Johns only friend. Then again John was never one with a large number of friends. In high school he was always the quiet who sat at the back of the room, he would spend most of his time on school work. He had two friends during that time, two friends who joined The Armed Forces the year after they graduated, John was the only of the three to go off to university.
By the time John was in his fifth year of university they had both died fighting. They were the only reason John decided to join the military in the first place. He hoped he could save the families and friends of the fighters from ever having to feel the pain he felt when his own friends had died. After a while John ended up enjoying his work there. He secretly loved the work he did there, he was happy there, then he got shot and had to come back to London.
When he came home he emotionally died, he realized he had no one but his drunk sister who didn't seem to count much at all. He felt almost as dead as he felt now, only this time he couldn't pretend he was upset from the war. This time he had to face that he was alone. This time there would be no Sherlock to rescue him.
Sherlock had taught John how to be happy again. With Sherlock it was like being in the war again, only better. This time he had someone to share the danger with, some one to share the uncertainty that they would be able to come back to his flat alive with, someone to share a flat with.
John saw Sherlock again right outside of Angelo's. It had been almost three years since he and Sherlock had first had supper here, three years since they had chased after that cab, three years since he had won over Sherlock's trust, three years since they had started living together. John thought about all the other cases he and Sherlock solved. He remembered Henry Knight and his unsolvable case that Sherlock answered in only a weekends time, he remembered that time they had saved a man from a life time in prison for a murder a horse had committed. He remembered when Sherlock had found out how the painting was a fake and saved the child on the phone. He remembered how Sherlock had found the American Ambassador's children from only a footprint and he remembered how Sherlock was blamed for act.
John didn't realize where he had walked to until he was just outside of St. Bartholomew's, in the same spot he watched Sherlock spread out his arms and plummet to the ground. John hadn't been back here since the day he watched Sherlock die. He stood there, his heart beat running as fast as it had the day he saw Sherlock on that roof. Six long seconds went by as he stared at the spot right above the E where Sherlock had stood months ago.
Then John ran, ran as fast as he could to the entrance of the hospital, he opened the door and ran to the stairwell, unaware of his surrounding along the way. He stormed up the stairs not hearing the foot steps stomping behind him. When he reached the roof he stopped, only for a second. He then walked slowly to the ledge at the exact same spot Sherlock stood only a short few months ago. John closed his eyes and heard Sherlock call his name behind him. He open his eyes back up only to smile at the man standing behind him. A tear ran down Johns face as he opened his arms as Sherlock had done and leans forward.
"John! Wait! I'm not dead!"
John hits the pavement a second after hearing the last word.