Thanks for your reviews on the first chapter! I decided to turn this into a longer installment. :)
Warning: Character death and spoilers for the end of Season 2.
Hope you enjoy it, even if it's dark.
„Stop it."
„John, I'm simply sitting here and..."
„No. You're Sherlock Holmes. You can't be 'simply sitting there'. You're observing. You're observing me and it's irritating. So, as I said before, stop it. Right. Now."
Sherlock was amused by his (wait, when did he start to think of John as his?) doctor's behaviour. After all he might have been right with his deductions. The way John looked at him, prepared tea, shared giggles over the most stupid things – that wasn't the normal behaviour for a friend. Or was it?
Of course he could have asked Mycroft but how should this kind of conversation start? "Oh well, brother, do your spies happen to have recorded any evidence that my blogger and flatmate Dr. John Hamish Watson is in love with me?". Maybe he should indeed ask Mycroft. The look on his brother's face would have been priceless at this point and one part of Sherlock was shouting to wrap himself in a sheet right now and wait for a black limousine to appear.
He softly chuckled at his own thoughts before addressing John again.
"You told me to become more human so don't get mad at me when I try. Maybe I'll be a better person if I observe the most caring human being." he added with a wink.
There. There it was again. That slight blush creeping up John's neck if only for a second.
In this very moment, Sherlock's phone rang. He had been bored for a couple of days and John was relieved when he caught a glimpse of the caller ID – maybe their flat would survive another week.
And indeed, their flat would. Their lives wouldn't.
Had John Watson known what Lestrade's "Get over here now." would mean for him and Sherlock, he would have crushed the phone into thousands of pieces before anyone of them could even think of answering the call.
But it was too late. The spider was already sitting in it's web, waiting for it's prey. Moriarty would destroy anything they had and he wouldn't stop before Holmes and his pet were dead or devastated.
Of course John had no idea of it, neither had Sherlock at this point. For sure they wouldn't have called a cab, huge grins all over their faces, ready to start a new adventure, if they had.
A few weeks later
Sherlock Holmes did realize a lot of things when he stood on the edge of that very particular roof.
First of all, he realized that he did have a heart – despite what he had claimed before. He did have a heart and it was torn into pieces right now.
Second, he realized he was able to cry. Of course he had cried before, he was a brilliant actor after all and some cased required him to play the wounded puppy. But this was real and those tears in his eyes felt a thousand times more painful than anything he ever experienced.
The last thing he realized though meant the most to him, while a few weeks ago he would have laughed at his own thoughts and deleted them from his memory.
He had a special chuckle reserved for John. This thought, though it seemed so pointless, so inane and futile at this moment, broke his heart completely. How had he not noticed this before? Why did it take two small statements to realize that there was more, much more between them than simply sharing 221b Baker Street?
"Nobody could be that clever."
"You could".
Chuckle.
In this instant he knew, no matter what he or any other person in this world told him, John would never stop believing he was real.
He thought of all the times his (again his) doctor told him we was "brilliant", "amazing", "stunning" and suddenly he had the feeling, that those comments weren't meant to describe his deductive skills alone.
As soon as he saw the the man on a bicycle he was waiting for turn around the corner, Sherlock Holmes said the hardest words he ever had to say.
"Goodbye, John".
His phone flew across the roof, he spread his arms and fell. No jump, no shouting, no more attraction drawn to him than needed. A simple fall.
A simple fall that broke another man's heart beyond the point of repair.
John Watson did realize a lot of things when he looked up at the dark figure standing on the roof of St. Bart's Hospital.
First of all, he realized that he should have told him. A lot of people say they regret things but in this very moment, John knew what regret really meant. There were countless moments when he could have admitted there's more than friendship. That being "his blogger" wasn't enough. But he never did.
Second, he realized that Sherlock was able to show emotions and it shocked him more than anything else in his life. Though he couldn't see it, he could hear and feel the pain in his best friend's voice. Months after the fall, he would still be haunted by the feeling, that there was one single tear rolling down Sherlock's skin and that his was meant for him.
The last thing he realized though meant the most to him. After he was knocked down by some idiot on a bicycle, he stumbled over to the black haired figure lying motionless on the ground. And that's when he realized not only Sherlock's live has handed a few seconds ago. He could feel any will to live run out of his body as he watched the blood of his one and only true love pooling on the pavement.
A simple fall ended everything they had. One was dead, one was devastated. Just as Moriarty wanted them to be.