No, not yet. He sat down in the middle of the roof and opened his laptop. He quickly opened his blog that he hadn't checked in years. He began typing.
"I am on the rooftop. The same rooftop that Sherlock stood on on the worst day of my life. i think you can see were this is going.
I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. For the last three years it has been hell. I use a cane again, the tremor in my hand has returned, and I have nightmares of the place I am at now. I miss you Sherlock. All the crazy experiments, and the violin at night. The excitement, and even you throwing those manchild fits. All of it. I want it all back.
You helped me in so many ways, and now you're gone, and I can't stand it.
I'm going after him. My best friend is gone, and I am following.
So to you all who haven't caught on yet, this is my note. That's what people do when doing something like this? Leave a note?"
John then set the computer down and walked to the edge of the building. He looked down once more. Then, He took a deep breath, got on the ledge, closed his eyes and spread his arms out, feeling the wind blow around him. He felt his body start to fall forward...