This is my first Sherlock story so play nice. Also I am from New York, no where near Britain, so if some of this is Americanized please excuse the mannerisms and phrases that may be incorrect.

Also I blame my sister for this. She exposed me to Sherlock. Sometimes I swear she exposes me to certain shows and movies just to see what fanfic I will write for it. Mainly because she knows I can't resist.

Oh right a disclaimed. I own nothing. Although if I did then Benedict Cumberbatch would constantly be dressed as Sherlock and Martin Freeman would forever be Bilbo Baggins.

He always believed that sentiments and feelings would be the downfall of the ordinary people that surrounded him. With their love and caring that led to broken hearts and their hopes and expectations that led to nothing, but disappointment. For most of his life he had successfully closed himself from all of these feelings. None of it helped him excel so why would he bother with them. He distanced himself from his family, which worked because his brother did the exact same thing, although not quite to the same extent. Mycroft still cared, even if he never expressed it to Sherlock directly. But Sherlock wasn't like his brother. He kept everyone at a distance.

It wasn't till Sherlock stood on the roof of St. Bart's that he realized he had somehow come to care quite deeply for those who he had surrounded himself with. Sure it manifested itself in small ways before he got to this point. When John had been disappointed with Sherlock for not really caring about the older woman who had a bomb strapped to her, it had bothered Sherlock. He didn't like that John was disappointed in him for some reason. When Mrs. Hudson took away his skull he felt more affectionate irritation then actual anger for her. That was a feeling he hadn't felt even for his relations. When Lestrade had shown up to help him and John with the case of the 'Hounds of Baskerville', as John called it, Sherlock wouldn't admit it, but in the end he had appreciated Lestrade being with them in the hollow as they faced off against the hound and Dr. Frankland.

Of course over time these foreign feelings grew. Sherlock couldn't relate the depth of hatred and fear he felt when he saw John wearing that bomb. At the time he had brushed it off as being angry that Moriarty had managed to best him, but Sherlock knew that was a poor excuse. Then there was the incident with the CIA trained assassins and Mrs. Hudson. When Sherlock had seen the cut on Mrs. Hudson's face and the blood on the gunman's ring, something in Sherlock snapped. As he threw the man out the window he attributed his actions to the fact that a man should never hit a lady. Sherlock couldn't admit to himself that it was because the man had the audacity to hit someone who was like a mother figure to him. Then there was Lestrade. Sherlock wasn't sure he had ever shown emotion when it came to Lestrade, but he knew that the man was important to him.

Lestrade was a man that Sherlock was sure he never would have liked. Except that Lestrade had allowed Sherlock to consult on multiple cases, far more then he was legally allowed. Also Lestrade had never hit him, despite the fact that Sherlock had seen Lestrade make a fist and glare at him numerous times. The man somehow always managed some amount of patience when it came to Sherlock and for that the man had somehow become important to SHerlock. It also didn't hurt that Lestrade wasn't a complete idiot when it came to being a person much less a detective inspector. Sherlock would never be able to tell Lestrade how much he appreciated Lestrade letting him feel useful.

Then there was Mrs. Hudson. The woman who gave Sherlock a deal because he had insured her husband got the death penalty. Some people would hold that against a person, but not Mrs. Hudson. She knew what her husband was and what he had done and had no problem helping send him to his death. She also always made sure that Sherlock was taking care of himself (mainly when John wasn't around). Despite her protests that she was not their housekeeper, she always had a pot of tea on and a couple of scones hot out of the oven. Sherlock would never be able to tell Mrs. Hudson that she was the mother that he had never been able to connect with.

And finally, John. Sherlock couldn't sum up his feelings for John because there was in no way anyone could sum up their feelings for the best mate they had ever had. John had become the one friend Sherlock had ever made. It still surprised him that John had stuck around through all that Sherlock had put him. Through the using of John's stuff, to the holes in the wall from the gun (that was John's), to the Asian gang kidnapping John and Sarah because they thought that he was Sherlock. Then there was that whole incident at Baskerville, when Sherlock had locked John in the labs and had driven him to near madness with fear before which he had yelled at John about them not being friends. It seemed that John stuck with him. Even now on the phone, as Sherlock tried to tell John that he was a fraud. That he had looked up John in order to impress him, John still wasn't buying the fact that Sherlock wasn't a genius. And why should he? Sherlock was lying to him to try and make his death easier on John. But how could he do that?

How could he do that to the man who had killed someone to save Sherlock within the first twenty four hours of meeting him? How could he make this easier on the man who complimented him instead of telling him to piss off like everyone else did? How could he make it easier on the man who despite being kidnapped and almost killed on more then one occasion, stuck around? It was near impossible. But Sherlock had to try for the sake of John and his future. Sherlock knew that permanently removing himself from John's life would devastate John, mainly because John had seemed to alienate everyone around him due to his spending an inordinate amount of time with Sherlock, but it would also save his life and thats what mattered to Sherlock. He couldn't let anyone hurt John, Mrs. Hudson, or Lestrade. Not while there was something he could do about it.

So Sherlock did what he had to. He planned everything down to the last detail. He was going to fake his own death for the sake of the three people that had managed to break down his barriers and make him care. He had called John because he had to say goodbye. In the end Lestrade had started to doubt him and his innocence and he didn't want to drag Mrs. Hudson into this. But John, John was already in this with Sherlock. When Sherlock had resisted arrest, John had resisted arrest with him. When Sherlock said run, John ran. And because he hadn't doubted Sherlock, John was who Sherlock had to call. Had to say goodbye to. Because John was his best mate and this was going to be hardest on John and John was going to be the one that Sherlock missed the most.

As Sherlock said goodbye he wished that there was a way that John could join him on this unknown adventure that he was about to embark on. However, the whole point of this was to save John by removing Sherlock himself from John's life. So, Sherlock said goodbye and then hung up. This was it. He looked once more at John, so far below him on the ground, staring up at him hoping that Sherlock wouldn't jump. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes before taking that last step.