The Reichenbach Fall
The cab slows outside the hospital, and I jump out. I can feel that something is wrong. I run towards the door hastily, not wanting to lose a second. As I cross the street I feel the faint buzz of my mobile in my pocket. Seeing that it is Sherlock, I answer.
"Sherlock, are you okay?"
"Turn around and walk back the way you came," he states bluntly, his voice shaking slightly.
"No, I'm coming in."
"Just. Do as I ask. Please."
Defeated, I walk back the way I came.
"Where?" I inquire, beginning to feel uneasy.
"Stop there."
"Sherlock.."
"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."
Surely enough, he is standing at the edge of the roof, as he said. "Oh god."
"I— I— I can't come down," he stutters, "so we'll just have to do it like this."
"What's going on?"
"An apology. It's all true"
"What?"
"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."
"Why are you saying this?"
"I'm a fake."
"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."
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock," I manage, bewildered and shocked, "Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"
"Nobody could be that clever."
"You could."
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."
"No. Alright, stop it now." I begin to move towards the door, but he stops me.
"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."
"Alright."
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"
"Do what?"
"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."
"Leave a note when?" I don't believe he is saying this. He wouldn't say this. This must be one of his tricks. My heart speeds up to an unnaturally fast pace, and as I hear his final words, time seems to stop all together.
"Goodbye, John."
"No. Don't!" I cry, suppressing sobs.
He falls.
My world stops turning and I feel sick. I feel myself subconsciously moving through the street. I have to get to him. I can't lose him. I have to get there.
A sudden impact against my side snaps me out of my delusion. I fall and make no attempt to stop myself from hitting the cold stones of the road. A warm trickle of blood falls down my temple, and a sudden pain strikes me. I manage to pull myself upright, only to see a group of pedestrians gathered, looking horrified and traumatised. I stagger towards the scene, and see what I feared most. The cold, white, bloodied body of my best friend, strewn across the pavement.
"No."
The word escapes from my lips, quietly. I push through the crowd and kneel before his corpse.
"No."
The word is louder this time. Tears stream down my face. Two sets of hands grasp my arms and pull me away.
"No!"
The word is merely a cry of pain now. I am numb. All is dark. He's gone; I am lost.