An Impossible Suicide

I just stood there, not sure if I should obey or disobey his orders this time. I stood, not knowing what to say as h finished the call, "This is my note," his note? "Goodbye, John." What?!

His voice was shaky as I heard him switch off the cell phone. My mind was screaming at me to run up there and hug him and tell him it would be alright, but my legs decided to be stumps and stay where they were. So, I waited and watched, until he fell.

"Sherlock!" I tried to get to him, but there were citizens and a policeman telling me to go and they wouldn't let me through. I gave up and just kneeled as they took his body and hauled it off to an , ambulance. Lot of good that does now. "No. No, no, no. No!" I mumbled to myself, "He can't be… no, Sherlock!"

Then I tried to run after him, but they stopped me. they told me to go home, and the policeman that was there decided to drive me home. But I couldn't bring myself to walk in.

I sat on the step, and sobbed. Each time I dried my tears and decided I would walk in, I was brought back to the same sobbing routine.

It's just that, he was my best friend, and recently he was the only friend I had. That moment before he fell, played in my mind over and over. And each time, I just stood there. I wish I had run after him. I wish I had told him I was sorry and what my real feelings towards him were and somehow still are.

Then, I started to think, maybe he wasn't dead. that maybe he somehow faked it, and he's going to come back and I will apologize and all will be well. I mean, he is a dick, and it sounds like something he'd do.

So, I faced my biggest fear, I lost Sherlock, and now I have to live with it. And nothing I say will change this. Nothing…

A few days later they had his funeral, and I barely said anything. I couldn't cry anymore, there weren't any left to cry.

After a few more weeks, the hospital I work with told me I should get a therapist or a psychiatrist. I tried, but the psychiatrist only diagnosed me with depression and tried to give me pills for it. And I ended making my therapist cry. That didn't help.

A few more weeks passed and I was able to move back into the flat and I also finally decided to go to his grave and see if I could muster up some words that would make me feel better about this.

But all I could say was, "I don't know why you did this, but I want you to know that I will always love you." and I kneeled there like that for a while, tears couldn't find their way to me, which made me feel even more heartless.

Noon came fast and I decided to go back to Sher- my flat. I grabbed a cab and said our- my address. I hate saying it without him here. The cabbie tried to strike up conversation, but I drowned out his familiar voice, and didn't recognize it until he said, "You know, John, if you don't recognize me in the next five seconds, I'll dump you for real this time."

We stopped in front of our building, "Sherlock!" I slammed the door in the angry manner I had now acquired.

I walked up to the door and looked behind me to see him still there. Then I marched upstairs because this can't be real. He's dead, and this isn't possible.

This is my imagination, I though, as I sat in my chair. I didn't close the front door, in case what I was seeing was real. But by the time Sherlock reached me, I was numb of any feelings I could have had before.

But when Sherlock shut the door and kneeled in front of me, and I saw those bluish grey eyes staring at me, I felt fascination. The colour of his eyes has always made me question him even more. Then I felt the love for him I've had and it warmed me as he grabbed my hands in his, "John. I'm so sorry. I really am." He stood, not letting go of my hands, "And I expected you to punch me."

I stood up, took my coat off and threw it on the floor, "I could you know. I'm pissed at you and it's not like I haven't before."

He slipped out of his coat and it landed on top of mine, "But you won't. you can't." he smiled down at me and grabbed my hands again.

H's right, "I couldn't hurt you, even when you hurt me so much more than I could ever hurt you, I still can't. I don't want you," I started sobbing, "to feel anywhere near what you put me through," I sobbed into his warm chest.

He sighed, and I swear he was crying as well, "I'm sorry. I really am, but I had to do what I had to do. I heard you scream, and that…" his voice broke and I could hear the sobbing, "Broke my heart."

Eventually we settled on the couch and just cried. He kept telling me it was going to be ok and, "I'm here John. I won't leave. I'm here." Of course, I don't believe him, how could i? I know he doesn't expect me to trust him.

"Three months, Sherlock Three-" and my phone rang to interrupt me. it was my therapist trying to help more. But I told her, "Actually, I don't need to see you anymore. I'm fine. Bye."

"John, I don t expect you to trust me, but-" I shushed him, and cuddled into him again. He was so warm. I couldn't help feeling doubt, like this was a dream, but even if it is, I have him and that's what counts.

Then I started thinking about the others, "How are we going to explain this-"

"Already done," he sniffled. "I saved the most emotional for last. Or the best, since I was most eager to see you."

I blushed, "Really? I thought I was boring," I told him.

"Exactly, I need you. we fit like puzzle pieces, you're boring and need adventure, I'm adventurous and I need a little boring cuddling now and then. Perfect. Sort of." That sounded weird, but poetic. Wow.

"No, it is perfect," I tell him.

Eventually, he pulled his knees up to my chest and wrapped his legs around my hips,(not without slipping his shoes off, but still).

I slipped my shoes off and cuddled into him and we got as close to each other as was possible. And we sat for about five minutes, just like that. each breath almost like a whisper, his saying "Kiss me," but I can't.

He pulled my face closer to his, "John," he whispered to my lips.

"Sherlock, I…" I started but never finished. Our lips weren't touching, so this wasn't a kiss, but I almost wish it was.

He kept getting closer, but it wasn't a kiss just yet. Yet…

I pulled away, "John, what-" I shushed him again.

Then I got extremely close back to where we were almost kissing, but this time I had control, "Sherlock I missed you so much, and I love you so much, but this-" I couldn't finish. I didn't know what I could say that would let him still want me.

I tried to pull away, but he yanked me back in, "But what? You don't want me anymore?" he furrowed his brows at me, "John?" he looked concerned, "John, I love you and if you don't think I do then I… I don't know what else I could say or do that would prove to you that I do."

I didn't speak, and my face was left emotionless. He sighed and leaned back, then laid down again and propped his feet up on my lap, "Well, I don't blame you for thinking such a thing. I don't get very emotional when it comes to things like this." Then suddenly he got frustrated, "You're an idiot," and he tried to leave.

But I made him sit down again, "Well, you're right, I don't trust you to love me and honesty, I wouldn't love me either-"

He pressed our foreheads together and interrupted me, "I love you, and I will keep loving you so much that you love yourself."

I blushed, "Try," I tempted him. Then, for some reason I was burning with passion and lust. Not desperately, but enough to get me sexually interested. Maybe it was the fact that Sherlock was finally admitting to me that he loves me, and now I want more than that. I'm weird.

That's when I picked him up and sat him on top of me, and he participated further by making our eyes lock, and God his are beautiful. "So," he got closer, "How does this go again?" I ask him.

His lips were touching mine, not yet a kiss, but damn close, "Like a fairytale, that's how," and for the first time, I felt his lips on mine and it wasn't at all what I expected. It was better. His lips were soft and full against mine and they were so warm I melted into him.

Then I pushed him off me and under me, with my hips in between his long legs. And as I kissed him more, our groins smashed together and it felt strange but good. Our lips were completely consumed by each other's as his parted mine and his tastes were shared with me.

He tasted really sweet, and I wanted a lot more. As I pulled his shirt over his head, I realized how weird his attire was. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which looked good on him, honestly. But still, it was weird. He returned the favor and our shirts floated to the floor and the chair behind us.

I hooked my right hand under his left knee and brought it around myself, and proceeded to kiss from his neck to the button on his jeans. This trick I learned from the ladies, they love it: I unbuttoned his jeans with my teeth and my tongue teased the hips above his underwear.

I slipped his jeans off and they fell to the floor as mine were at my knees, and I slid them off to join Sherlock's on the floor.

He put me under him and slid my boxer down slowly and teased me by licking up one side of my shaft then kissing down the other to meet my abdomen where he left a love mark. I moaned inside of a chuckle. All of my clothes were now on the floor, and I decided Sherlock's should be too.

So I slid his off and while doing so, I took half of him in my mouth, and when I came back off him I hooked my teeth on the head and made him moan. I then left a love mark on his thigh and on the floor were all of our clothes.

The slide of our skin against one another's was enough to arouse me completely, and Sherlock was already all the way there.

Then he did something I wasn't quite expecting, he took control and my legs were wrapped around his hips when he thrust into me. his first moan came out of him and it surprised both of us, it was so loud. But mine was almost as loud, this feels weird, but I like it, strangely.

As each thrust took place, he kissed me and a moan radiated from one of us, each time it was louder and faster. His lips scaled my chest and my nipples and my neck and felt amazing.

My fingers found his hair and tugged on it, which drove him crazy. I didn't think he'd like that. Then again, when I grew my hair out and girls tugged on it, it felt good. This is all so surprising though, I never knew Sherlock as the one to get off with someone, especially me.

We then reached our climax and were already sweating and I could taste it in his kisses, we were both bout to cum and it was going to be amazing. And it was. My vision blurred and all I saw was Sherlock fall limp on me and I felt him panting and a moan escaped me for the last time.

"That… was the… strangest thing… I've ever done," I breathed to Sherlock.

I ruffled his curls as he looked at me, "Yeah," he giggled Wait, he giggled? And in turn I started giggling, and it was weird. Then it just turned to the fact that I couldn't stop smiling. "I love you, John."

I chuckled, "I love you, too Sherlock."