Chapter VIII | They'll Never Take Me Alive

November 9th

It's been seven months since Sherlock died.

For the first three months, I could see him.

He could talk to me, lure me away from the other's. I don't know if it was really him or not. I couldn't really figure it out. Sometimes he would help me, like he did when we found the church. Helped me find where the food was.

But then other times…

Well.

He's the reason…

Well I can't blame him I guess… not really.

It was my fault for following him around and thinking that he was real. That he had come back to me like before, even though I knew it wasn't possible in the slightest.

I mean,

How stupid was I to think that he would have been real? That he could come back to me after I shot him in the head…

But I wanted it.

I wanted him.

It was stupid and selfish and…

It got him killed.

I…

I got him killed.

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John opened his eyes as the sun shined through the stone glassless window. He groaned a little and covered his blue eyes with both hands as he tried to block it out of his eyes. Sitting up in from his spot on the floor and winced a little.

Christ.

I'm getting too old for this.

The blond looked around the empty room. Well his empty room. Mostly empty. A sigh came from him as he looked over and Sherlock waved good morning to him. Just like he did every morning. For the last three months. Sometimes John would acknowledge him, other times he would ignore him. Depending how he slept usually. If he had nightmares all night, usually he would ignore Sherlock. But today he smiled and waved at him lightly. He pulled himself up from the floor and sighed moving over to the window to look out at the snow covered ground below. It seemed liked a lot of the walkers were dying off from the cold, other's seemed to be finding food somewhere. He didn't know where or how. Probably drifters or people too dumb to get off the road.

"It's going to be nice today. Cold tonight though, so make sure you have a fire."

"How do you know this Sherlock?" He asked turning and looking over at the ghost. John didn't bother being quiet or not talking a loud. Mycroft and Greg were use to him talking to nothing. The transparent brunette chuckled and shook his head a little at him.

"I'm still me John. I can tell by clouds and weather patterns."

"Oh, right." He said and looking away from him again and back out the window at the creatures below. John felt hands wrap around his waist and he hummed softly. Even though he knew he wasn't real, the contact was welcomed. Comforting. "Sherlock… I miss you. I'm sorry. Really sorry for everything that happened. That I didn't save you." He leaned back into the figure a little and closed his eyes tightly. There was silence for a long time until he finally spoke.

"Want to make it up to me? Be with me?"

John blinked a little and pulled away to look at him. What was he asking? Sherlock had never asked him something like this before. "Are you asking me to kill myself?" He said, staring at the pale green eyes of the ghost. "Is that what you're asking me to do?"

"Well, more sacrifice yourself John. You miss me yes? You want to be with me? So why not?"

Swallowing hard the blond, quirked a brow at him. "Sherlock…" He frowned a little and looked away rubbing his arm. "Uh…what um…" He stammered over his words as Sherlock gave him a curious look.

"John?"

Blue eyes looked up at him and he gave Sherlock a hard look. "What do you want me to do?" He said watching the being in front of him grin. It didn't look like the normal one he usually got but, this wasn't a usual request either.

"Simple really. Walk out that front door and let the walkers take you."

"Let the walkers… take me?" He asked tilting his head to the side with frown.

Well, being with him.

That's dying.

Because Sherlock was dead.

The being nodded to him in confirmation. John shifted uncomfortable in his spot. He didn't know what to think about all of this. Did he really want to do this? Listen to him and walk outside and be walker bait. "I…"

"You love me don't you John? You want to do with me?"

He nodded and covered his mouth, leaning against the wall. He turned and looked out the window at the walkers, lumbering around the front yard. Again arms wrapped around him and held him there.

"Do it John. Do it to be with me. To get out of this dark hateful world. You know you want to John. Do it."

John bit his lips hard and moved his hand down to the ones that held him there. "Sherlock. I do. I want to be with you but… just walk out there? I don't want to be one of those things." He said looking over at him and tilting his head a little. He didn't turn out of the hold though. He wanted nothing more to stay in that hold forever. But what kind of relationship was this? With a ghost. A spirit who wasn't really real. Who wasn't there. He nodded to him and looked back out.

"Bring your gun."

He nodded and this time he did pull away from him. He walked over and pulled out his gun shoving it into his pocket. He took a deep breath and pulled on his coat. Sherlock was gone when he turned around. Slowly the blond opened the door to his room and looked around, the hall was empty. He would wait till dark to go out. They were more active at night.

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Night fall.

It was late, really late. He wanted to make sure that Greg and Mycroft were sleeping before he didn't this. He didn't want their lives taken because of this. The blond turned to look at Sherlock who was still standing behind him. "You're sure about this? That I can be with you?" The being nodded but didn't say anything just waving to the door in a 'Go' motion. The doctor took a deep breath as he unlocked the door and moved to take hold of the handle.

Well why not really?

What did he have left?

The door opened with a very noisy creak. John cursed under his breath and looked up the stairs to make sure no one was coming. The church was quiet and John slipped out the door closing it behind in with another creak. He couldn't believe he was really doing this. Taking a deep breath the blond wandered away into the building and let his blue eyes watch the walkers around him. John turned to see where Sherlock was. He had to ask him what he wanted him to do. But the brunette spirit was nowhere to be seen. "Sherlock?" He called out loud and immediately regretted it when the sound of hungry walkers started to make their way towards him. "Shit… Shit…" He mumbled as he started to back up, the growling was so loud. Suddenly there were hands on his shoulder and he let out a cry and looked over at him. "Shit! Greg?!" The silver haired man gave him a strange look, holding the gun out to fire at a coming walker. "What the bloody hell are you doing John?!" He scowled and grabbed his arm shoving him inside to Mycroft.

But the gun fire.

That was a bad idea.

Now there were walkers all over.

Greg was just trying to slide between the door when they grabbed him, yanking him back. "No, no Greg!" Mycroft reached out and grabbed his hand. Greg gave a sympathetic look and then cried out as he was bit, he let go of his hand falling back into the walkers. "I'm sorry My." He mouthed to them as John wrapped his arms around Mycroft to tug him back into the church. Everything went still for a moment as Greg smirked. "They'll never take me alive!" He yelled and stuck the gun into his mouth.

BANG!

The sound was in sync with the large door to the church slamming. John had to pull Mycroft up the stair and away from the door. Too many shots had been fired.

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So you see.

I got Greg killed.

And I never saw Sherlock again.

I wasn't him anyways.

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Author Note: I must apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I've been having health problems and back problems. Next one will not take as long. I also want to clarify that the "Sherlock" John was seeing was a hallucination. Like the voices in someone's head that forces them to kill other people.