Friends Protect People

by Reya Levith

That's just what friends do, says John. And that's exactly what Sherlock will do. Because those bullets can't be stopped any other way now.

(A/N): John's last face-to-face chat with Sherlock ended in him throwing a little scathing piece of advice at Sherlock's face, and when I watched Reichenbach again (I don't know how I managed it, but it involved quite a bit of teeth-gritting), those three words just stuck. And my heart tore. Again. XD

Disclaimer: I'd settle for just owning Benedict Cumberbatch, but no such luck.

"Friends protect people."

That's what John told me. Only moments ago. The last time in a long time he's going to be that close, looking me straight in the eye again.

He was mad at me; exasperated. But he's still my friend.

Moriarty is dead. I knew it. The 'final problem'. Here it is.

Some part of me, which I believe is known as a heart, hoped it wouldn't happen, though my mind had already conceded that this was the outcome.

There's no way to stop the bullets now. No way at all.

Unless I jump.

I had planned for that.

But somehow I neglected to plan for John's reaction.

It doesn't matter. I have to do this. Three bullets, Sherlock. Focus, now.

Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson.

John.

My friends. I will miss you.

It's all up to me now. And Molly, dear, brave Molly.

She was right about me.

She's going to save me.

All of us. I hope she knows it.

This is for you, John.

Goodbye.

I'll always protect you.

Friend.