A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
"Goodbye, John."
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
And then the tall, pale figure, fell from Bart's.
John Watson breathed in a terrified breath. Why did he do it?
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
He made to rush forward, but someone got in the way. He fell to the ground with a grunt as a cyclist hit him. It was dizzying.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
That one sentence playing over in his mind. Even as he tried to right himself. Why though?
It's all true. Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty. I'm a fake.
Sherlock was certainly not a fake. How could he even say something like that? Why would he?
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.
Some things couldn't be faked. Certain things just couldn't be faked. Sherlock had gotten deductions wrong before. 'There's always something'. He'd impressed John repeatedly. And he was vain about his abilities. He'd never let someone believe that he wasn't intelligent. His Masters Degree in Chemistry proved his intelligence.
John got to his feet, wobbling slightly. He was lightheaded. This wasn't the time for it though. He had to get to Sherlock.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
Even through the pain in his shoulder. Damn the ground was hard.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
He stumbled slightly, trying to make his vision stop swimming. And when he could finally see, he realized that he was facing the wrong direction and turned in time to see people swarming the hospital. His heart stuttered.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
Sherlock had landed. Why wasn't there a sound?
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
Sherlock said 'goodbye'. Goodbye didn't necessarily mean 'farewell'. Did it? There were goodbyes and then there were final goodbyes.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
Unless…
He moved forward, pushing past people as he neared his friend/crush.
"Excuse me!"
"Please let me through!"
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
He managed to get close enough to snag Sherlock's collar, using all of his strength to pull himself past the people who seemed to try to pull him away.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
They pulled on his jacket and he could only wonder why they'd try to remove a grieving man from his dead friend. Until he saw the blood.
That wasn't a blood splatter near Sherlock's head. And a fall like that would have made noise and possibly caved the skull in. Bone could be just as, if not, stronger than concrete. To objects of the same strength and density, connecting, would have a negative effect if one was moving at a certain speed. There was no dent beneath Sherlock's body though. And the blood, was a simple puddle.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
He was terrified to come to the realization.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
He let loose a horrified cry and threw himself on Sherlock's 'dead' body, hands fisting in his blue muffler.
He buried his face near Sherlock's hair and whispered almost imperceptibly, "You better have a good reason for this."
He was relieved to fell a small puff near his ear and a low, "I do, John. Well done."
And John continued his crying, bringing up the memory of his Bulldog, Gunther, being hit by a cab when he was eight. He'd cried so long over it. The tears came easily and he allowed the people to pull him away, even as he managed to rip the muffler from Sherlock's pale throat, clutching onto it tightly. Like a momento.
It's a trick. It's just a magic trick.
It was all just a trick. Everything Sherlock said wasn't true. For some bloody reason. But Sherlock needed him to be believable for some reason and so John Watson would put on the best act he could, until Sherlock came home and explained why.
John could do it. It was… after all, just a magic trick.
A/N: Done!
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