Look at this! Two whole updates for you, in two days, because I feel bad for neglecting you all previously :). Uh... this is quite sad, actually. Like, really sad. It even got to me. So sorry about that. AlKiMi- feel glad you kept those tissues to hand!

But I reckon this is the lowest chapter. It's all up from here, slowly but surely. And I have a bit of lightheartedness planned for Chapter Six, so just this chapter and the next to go, yeah, and then it's time for... That's right, TONY HARRISON AND SABOO! Because you just can't have a 'Boosh fic without them. In my opinion, anyway. But first, get your tissues out, because this might be a rough one... :'(.


It the sudden silence as his iPod ran out of songs that woke Vince up. There was a full two minutes of blissful ignorance before Vince remembered what had happened the previous day, and then a crushing weight fell on him as his stomach dropped and his chest began to ache.

He rolled out of bed, noting vaguely that he was still wearing his clothes from two days before. Taking less time than usual, but still being careful to maintain his appearance, he dressed. He didn't straighten his hair, or apply make up, because there was little point. He had no intention of leaving the flat, nor work in the shop.

Naboo and Bollo were in the front room again, getting high- nothing new there.

"Morning," Naboo said casually, casting a critical eye over Vince. "You're up early."

"Yeah," Vince said vaguely. He didn't bother to offer an explanation, nor ask for the time. It didn't really matter. "Aren't you opening up the shop?"

"It's your turn."

"Really?" Vince asked, mildly surprised. He must have lost track of the days... again.

There was a short silence while Vince began to make himself a cup of tea. Then...

"How are you feeling?"

The question was asked carefully, as though Naboo was afraid of setting Vince off. He was mildly incensed.

"I'm fine," he insisted defiantly. "I was just a bit emotional yesterday because I was so tired."

"You weren't just emotional. You were hysterical," Naboo replied, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well that was last night, wasn't it?" Vince snapped. He stomped toward the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going? What about the shop?"

"You can shove the shop. I'm going to my room."

Before Naboo could reply, he had stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. It only took a couple of minutes for him to calm down and start to regret his behaviour. Naboo was only looking out for him. Even though it didn't seem like it sometimes, he did have a good heart.

Ten minutes later, Vince dared to venture back out of his room. There was nobody in the front room now, so he was able to retrieve his phone from the kitchen island, where it had lay since his argument with Howard.

There were four texts. Three were from Leroy. One telling him that he had forgotten his keys- not that he'd even noticed, with everything going on- another calling him out on not replying, which was fairly out of character for him, and a third that was slightly more worried. Vince texted a quick reply, not quite bringing himself to break the news to Leroy, as if telling someone would make it too real.

Then, with that done, Vince hovered over the last message. It was from Howard.

Howard barely ever texted Vince. On the odd occasion he did, it was usually because he couldn't reach him by phone. But there were no missed calls this time. Only this message.

His breath caught in his throat as he selected the message. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. It hadn't once crossed his mind that Howard might have left a note, but there it was, staring him in the face. And it was bloody long, too, which made it all the more difficult to read.

Sorry, Vince. I would have rung, but I think you've left your phone behind and in any case, I don't think I could say any of this directly. I don't know whether you've found me yet, but I suppose I should tell you anyway, just in case. I'm dead. Well I'm not now, obviously, but I will be by the time you get home. Or well on my way, anyway. I've already taken the pills, in case you have got your phone and think you can come and stop me. I might not even get to the end of this message, to be fair, since it's taking me a while to type. These bloody phones, eh? But I want to write this properly. None of this text speak nonsense. These will be my last written words, after all. And it seems only appropriate that I send them to you.

Well, Vince, what can I say? I'm sorry for tonight, I really am. I think you need to know that I would never hurt you deliberately. That cup was a heat of the moment thing, you know how I can get with my temper. I also think you need to know that you're my best mate. I know that's a given, since there's only really Lester aside from you and he's a bit of a berk (please don't tell him I said that), but I wanted to make sure there's no doubt. You've always been there when I needed you and I know we have our disagreements, but you always come through for me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. The simplest way of putting it is that you don't treat me like shit, like everyone else does. And I couldn't have found a better mate if I tried, so thank you. I know you didn't mean what you said, and I think you probably already regret it. And I forgive you. So don't you dare go blaming yourself, alright? I don't blame you at all, so neither should you.

I've got to go now, this is taking up about ten messages and I don't know how much credit I've got left. You're right- I should have bought a contract phone. There's still so much left to say, but I've got the important bit down and one day, when you're an old man joining me in the afterlife, I'll tell you the rest. Thank you for making my life so much brighter. I'm so sorry that it wasn't enough. But please, for me, stay happy? And please, stay alive for as long as you can. You're a gift to the world, Vince. Don't go doing anything stupid, alright?

Oh God, here comes the difficult bit. I'm actually crying, I can't believe it. I love you, Vince. You're a fantastic mate and I really hope the rest of your life is as brilliant as the bit that I've been honoured enough to see. In fact, it will be better, because I won't be around to hold you back (and you can thank me for that when you finally join me). I really have got to go now. My phone's starting to freeze up. It can't cope with all this typing. You were right about that too, my phone is shit. That what I get for choosing a Blackberry, eh? I'd happily throw it out of the window right now. In fact, that's something you could do for me if you wanted. I know how much you hate Blackberrys. But yeah, I think that's everything I need to say. The rest can wait. Oh, and I'm sorry for every bad thing I've done to you or said to you. I've been a selfish person, I know. I can't help it sometimes. But I hate myself for it now, and that's partly why I'm doing this. I just can't stand to be me any longer. Goodbye, Vince. I'll always be grateful for your friendship. And please, PLEASE, don't blame yourself, alright? This isn't your fault and I just can't stress that enough.

Goodbye xxx.

By the time he got to the kisses, Vince was almost in tears. He was rooted to the spot, just staring at the impossibly long message, unable to believe that it was the last contact Howard would ever have with him. Then he set the phone down numbly, folding his arms on the counter top and resting his head on them.

It was too much for him to handle. It wasn't fair. Why did it have to happen to them? They had been happy, a nice little family, a proper gang. They had been doing alright, Vince thought. But now everything was all messed up and nothing could put it right. Nothing. If only one of them had noticed, or taken Howard seriously. Even his text sounded cheerful though, and he was dying when he wrote that, Vince thought bitterly. He had been a better actor than any of them had realised, it seemed.

He didn't even know if he was crying. His eyes were watering and his cheeks felt damp and there was something warm soaking into his sleeves so it was a safe assumption. But it didn't feel like he was crying. He didn't have a lump in his throat. He wasn't choked up or sobbing or anything. It just felt like he was leaking from his eyes and he had absolutely no control over it.

"I miss you, Howard," Vince sighed, raising his head slightly and directing his words to his phone. It was all he could do. The text was his last link to Howard, and now all he wanted to do was text him back, or ring him, or just talk to him somehow. He didn't even have to see him. He just wanted his voice, his words. Anything. He just wanted to communicate. "Why'd you have to go and kill yourself, you peanut?"

"Who's a peanut?" Naboo asked, arriving at the top of the stairs. Vince jumped. He hadn't even heard his footsteps.

"No one," he replied, unable to look at him. "Sorry, Naboo, by the way."

"Do you know what I think?" Naboo asked, crossing the room to stand in front of Vince.

"No."

"I think you need a counsellor."

"A counsellor?" Vince asked, thinking of summer camps and MPs.

"A therapist," Naboo rephrased. "Someone you can talk to. You've never lost anyone before, have you Vince?"

Vince shook his head mutely.

"Then maybe it's time to go to the doctor and get a referral."

"Urgh, I don't want a referral," Vince whined, finally meeting Naboo's eye. "I want Howard."

He knew he sounded like a spoilt child, but he couldn't help himself. He gazed at the tiny shaman, having to tilt his head upwards for once since he was still draped over the kitchen island.

Naboo sighed.

"I'm sorry, Vince. He's gone. You're going to have to learn to accept it. I'll make you an appointment, yeah?"

"No!" Vince moaned. "I don't need a therapist. I need... I don't know what I need, but it's not a therapist. It's... it's..." he sighed in defeat. "It's Howard."

Naboo just shook his head.

"I'll try and get one for Wednesday morning, alright?"

Vince just nodded, unable to argue. Naboo headed back down the stairs. Idly, Vince picked up his phone and started to mess with it, pushing the buttons without really thinking. Before he knew what he was doing, he was ringing Howard.

It went to voice mail, of course. Vince's heart sunk- somewhere, deep down, he had truly believed that Howard might pick up. But still, he somehow found his voice and began to speak uncertainly.

"Uh... Howard? It's me, Vince. Obviously. I've got your text, and I just wanted to reply. I don't really know what to say, if I'm honest, but I'll give it a bash, yeah?" He paused long enough to take a deep breath and then continued, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I wish you were here. So much. I can't believe it either." He gave a weak laugh. "I love you too. I can't even put into words how sorry I am for our argument. If it hadn't happened... If I'd have been a better mate..."

He couldn't finish the thought. He took the phone away from his ear and made to hang up, but then raised it again, fighting away the feeling of foolishness. He had to do this.

"It's not true, you know. What everyone says about you. Said. No, says, because nobody knows yet, I don't think, unless Naboo's told them. You're not a failure. You were a great man. Monsoon Moon. You just haven't found your place yet. I mean, you learn from doing, right? And nobody did- does- more than you. You've tried a bit of everything, and just because you weren't very good at it, doesn't mean you're going to fail at everything. You'll find something eventually, something you're really good at, and then you'll be sorted."

Vince shook his head. He wasn't making any sense, not that it mattered.

"I mean... Oh, I don't know what I mean. I miss you, Howard, simple as. I want you back. Do you think-" he fought against the lump in his throat, struggling to get the words out. "Do you think you could do that? Come back? Just for me? Because everything's genius when you're around. I mean it. But you're not here and everything's gone wrong. It's not right. I don't know... I just... I had to tell you that, yeah? And Naboo and Bollo aren't showing it so much, but I know they're grieving inside. They have to miss you too. It's all so empty around here without you. I don't think you realise how much we need you. You hold us all together. You're the gel, you keep us all... normal."

He shook his head. He wasn't doing very well.

"I'm going to stop now, because I think I'm talking bollocks. My head's all jumbled up. But I need to tell you... You're my best mate too. You're the- the best person I've ever met. You were- are- just... You were great. Urgh, I'm sorry, I can't express myself properly, you know that, but I really mean all this. I can't function properly without you. I need you. And you really needed me, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Truly. I just thought you should know, yeah? Alright. Just... just stop being dead, yeah, and come back to us? I need you."


Urgh, that was sad. I'm sorry. But it does get better from here, like I said. Also, I have nothing against Blackberrys particularly, but they are shit, aren't they? Everyone I know who has one says that they're shit, anyway. And my dad's is awful. His speakers are busticated and everything so he can't even hear it ringing, which really bugs me because he never picks up and I don't live with him, so if I need anything...

ANYWAY, I have three last things to say. Four actually. The first is about that bit that Vince says at the end. That was inspired from Sherlock. If you watch it, you might get that. If not- Sherlock throws himself off a building to stop his best friend, John, and two other people, being killed, and then John goes to his graveside all tearful and he's like, "One last miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be dead. Can you do that? Just stop it. Stop this." It's a truly beautiful moment. If you haven't seen it, check it out, it's amazing, simple as- The Reichenbach Fall, the episode's called, and it's the last couple of minutes. Honestly amazing. And then -SPOILER ALERT- the camera pans round and Sherlock isn't dead, but he's decieved everyone into thinking he is, and he's stood behind a tree, watching John say all this. Simply beautiful.

Second thing. This entire fic is inspired by the song "Gunslinger" by Avenged Sevenfold. It's a truly amazing song, and it has a fantastic power over me. It makes me feel all happy and sad inside all at the same time. Remarkable. I strongly suggest you check it out. In fact, check out Avenged Sevenfold anyway. I think they're simply the greatest band ever- Gunslinger, Unbound, Afterlife, A Little Piece of Heaven (amusing video for that one, seriously), Dear God, Nightmare and So Far Away are my current favourites, but I just adore them in general. Some of their stuff might be a bit "hard rock" or "metal" for some people (although I'm not sure, they seem to span a few different genres/styles throughout their albums), but So Far Away and Dear God are more ballad-y, so you might want to start there. I really reccomend Gunslinger though, it's my all-time favourite song from them, so yeah. I'm actually going to write a songfic for it at some point, although for which fandom I have no idea :L. Also, if you listen to it, you might get some idea as to which direction this fic will take, so spoilers in song form ;). If you interpret it in the same way I do, I suppose. Idk. It's just beautiful, 'kay?

Third thing. If you are a Sherlock and Doctor Who fan, or a fan of one or the other (although I've never met a Doctor Who fan who isn't into Sherlock and vice-versa, although they're written/created by the same people, so that's unsurprising), then please, please check out a fic me and my mate Emilehh are writing. It's called "Finding Amy", and it's a crossover of the to shows. Ah, I love Emilehh. She is the John to my Sherlock, the Doctor to my Amy (I agreed she could be the Doctor if I could be Sherlock, see. That's how the fic came about), the Vince to my Howard (however much I wish it could be the other way around :P), the Bollo to my Naboo, the Saboo to my Tony Harrison... you get the picture. Also, don't tell her I love her- I like to pretend I hate her 'cause she wont move in with me, even though I desperately need a flatmate. The ball-bag (as Naboo would say).

Well, I'm rambling terribly. So yes, the final thing. REVIEW! Please? Reviews earn metaphorical sad Vinces to cuddle, yeah? Alrighty :D.

I love you all! :D.