A/N: This story is dedicated to one of my former students who took her own life this past weekend, an action that took everyone by horrified surprise. In my shock I have retreated to my writing.

Though I am upset beyond any reasonable measure at her decision, I hope that she is released from the pain that was so unbearable to her.

I always wanted to go before you.

It would be a way of repaying, perhaps, in some small, insignificant way, the years that I stole from our friendship so long ago. I would be the one to suffer alone this time, waiting simply for the day that death's sweet release would come for me. But I can't see anymore and your words are muffled and distant and though I can still feel the press of your hand it is a dim sensation that I soon fear will vanish along with the rest. I do not think that I can hold on any longer and I am sorry sorry so sorry old friend. I cannot hold on to this life any longer. I will leave you alone again, selfish in even my last action, and unfeeling toward you once more. Those are tears streaming down my face now, aren't they, and finally for once I am not ashamed to let you see. It will soon be over for me, for now. I will be released from my hold on this life, released from its pain.

But it is not over for good, agent of my karma.

It was not supposed to be this way.

We were supposed to go in some glorious manner, gunned down on a case that we foolishly decided to take in our old age, an accident on one of our mad journeys during our seemingly quiet retirement. It was not supposed to be this way.

I was not supposed to watch you die this way.

You were not supposed to die on me again.

And yet what else can I do but sit silently by your beside, hoping that I offer some small degree of comfort by my presence and press of your hand. What else have I ever been able to offer you, my oldest and greatest friend, than undying support even in your last minutes? I am horrified by the unfairness of it all, the sheer gall of the universe and God who dares to allow this thing to happen! My passions, old and weak as they are, rail against the forces of nature for one brief instant before I am calm once more. This is happening and it is real and there is nothing I can do to stop you.

"Watson...." it is barely audible, more breath than word.

"What is it Holmes, what's the matter?" I am ashamed by the frantic note of my own voice, so out of place in this solemn chamber.

"I'm sorry." His voice cuts out and there are tears on his cheeks and my world is crashing down again.

"There is nothing to be sorry for Holmes," I manage to croak as his breathing becomes more labored and ragged.

"Don't want... to leave again."

My mind cannot find the words to answer. I simply clasp his frail hand tightly in both of mine and feel a weak response. Perhaps, for once, words are simply not needed.

Because you see, there is always the next life, old friend. And the one after that. And as we spin upon the wheel through the centuries we shall meet again and again, and finally I believe fully the words of the monks who resided at the roof of the world.

I try to say goodbye, the absolute least I can do, but I find that my mouth cannot form the words and I must deny you this final debt that you are owed more than a million and one times over. Though I was selfish and arrogant and even awful some of the time you still stayed and so terrified me with the sheer depth of your loyalty and so frustrated with myself in my inability to express my awe.

It is impossible to express that I would gladly trade your life for mine.

Your soul is a light that will blind me in any life, and one that I cannot help but be drawn to.

So for now it is goodbye, my friend. Until we meet again.

A/N: Please, go about the world today with a smile upon your face. It might save someones life.