A/N: Angst! You all saw it coming. I wasn't going to upload this until tomorrow but I decided on today. Hope it doesn't ruin anyone's holiday (if you're in the US).

Also, this chapter and I think the next chapter have a warning for the suicidal thoughts I mentioned at the start. Don't worry too much.

Sherlock glances down at his phone vibrating on his desk. It's a text from Clara saying she'll be over in a minute, but Sherlock doesn't reply. If she'll be there in a minute, he can wait to ask why she's not at the library with John. Or better yet, wonder out loud why, if they're not at the library, John hasn't texted him.

Clara does arrive minutes later, and nothing is wrong with her so clearly her and John didn't get into a fight or anything.

"Where's John?" he asks curiously.

"He had a headache, went home as soon as we arrived."

Sherlock nods and doesn't text John, since that's probably why John hasn't texted.

Clara flops down on Sherlock's bed. "So, he showed me something on Tumblr and it was on johawa's blog."

Sherlock glances at her. "John has Tumblr?"

"Yeah, he didn't know you have it either."

"You told him that I do?"

Clara nods.

Fear rushes through Sherlock. He usually doesn't regret anything he says on the site, anything he says to a certain someone on the site, but if John know that he's scientificpirouette, John might hate him because of how he acts. This can't be good.

"Did you tell him my URL?"

Clara looks up at him through her long eyelashes. "I, uhm…"

Sherlock buries his face in his hands. "Damn it!"

"Well, I'm sorry! It didn't occur to me to keep it a secret!"

"Even I know I'm a prick on that site, why would you tell him?!"

"You outed me to him!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. He's not going to hate you for being a lesbian!"

"Maybe you should have thought of all this when you started being a dick to johawa."

Suddenly, Sherlock can't breathe. It's like pieces to a puzzle are coming together, and his chest hurts so bad, it feels like it's caving in. His heart feels like it's about to burst.

"W-wait a second," Sherlock mumbles.

Clara grows a look of concern. "Love? You okay?"

Sherlock leans forward on his knees. "John's middle name is Hamish."

"What? So?"

Sherlock covers his face and mutters, . "John. Hamish. Watson."

"Oh god…"

"And he knows who I am," Sherlock whispers, all of it setting in that there's no possible way he can make this up to John. There is no way John's just going to forget this.

And then it sets in that it's his John who feels that way, who talks about his suicidal thoughts and his struggles and…him. John talks about how much he loves Sherlock and Sherlock is so awful. This isn't forgivable, Sherlock knows that.

"I'm going to be sick," Sherlock whispers.

Clara hears him and rushes to grab the trash bin from under his desk, then situates it under his head that's now hanging between his knees. His stomach gurgles and he hurls into it, quickly regretting eating the lunch that John made him eat.

Suddenly, his phone rings loudly through the room and he bursts into tears.

"Tell me it isn't John," he says through his hands.

"It's John," Clara whispers.

Sherlock cries roughly into his hand. He knows John is calling to break up with him. John isn't the type of person to stand by and let someone else treat him poorly (he has a million post replies stating such thing), and Sherlock can't take it. His heart breaks.

"Are you going to answer it?" Clara asks.

Sherlock nods and sits up, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath before he coolly, yet shakily, answers.

"Hey, love."

"Sherlock," John sternly says on the other side. "We need to talk."

Tears fall. Sherlock pulls the phone away to sniffle, then holds it to his ear again. "Okay."

"Meet me…at the park. Twenty minutes."

Sherlock nods, not trusting his voice, then John hangs up. He cries freely and Clara takes him in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry," Clara says to him.

Sherlock can't even bring himself to blame her. It's his fault, and for the first time in his life he'll take responsibility for something that's going wrong in his life. For hurting someone who doesn't deserve it.

"I have to…I have to clean up."

Clara lets him go and he stands.

"Wear something sexy," Clara jokes.

Sherlock lets out a pathetic chuckle. "God, I love him so much."

"I know," Clara says. "And I always knew I was right about your crush on johawa."

Sherlock laughs again. "Shut up!"

Clara wipes tears from his cheeks. "It'll be okay."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and nods. Clara stands on her toes to kiss his forehead, then she leaves the room so he can get ready.

John gets to the park early because he doesn't trust himself to be home alone. After he left Clara at the library, he took a detour through the least busy (so the cars could go the actual speed limit) street around his neighborhood and contemplated stepping out into traffic. He watched the cars go by at the top speed and just imagined it. All the pain would go away, he'd be free.

Part of him wants to hear Sherlock out. He wants to know if Sherlock knew it was him, but he doesn't know if the answer would change his decision. He's not going to stay with Sherlock.

If he's honest with himself, John is afraid of what's going to happen when Sherlock arrives. Is Sherlock going to dump him for being 'so pathetic' or 'a waste of space', as scientificpirouette has told him so many times? Surely Sherlock won't want to be with someone so useless.

To be fair, thinking of all of this, John realizes Sherlock probably didn't know johawa is him, because if Sherlock did he surely would have never spoken to John.

That doesn't excuse his actions. Honestly, if he found out Sherlock was treating anyone this poorly, it would go unforgiven.

John leans forward on the bench and buries his face in his hands. This can't be happening. Sherlock is so sweet, so wonderful, but now John feels like ending his pathetic life wouldn't be a mistake.

So much is going through John's head: past conversations, arguments between the two bloggers, the sudden plead a while ago from scientificpirouette to stay alive. Why did Sherlock do that?

John doesn't notice anyone standing next to him until the other man clears his throat. John looks up to see the face of a more pale and distraught Sherlock.

Sherlock motions to the bench next to John. "Should I—" He's awkward about it.

"So, you know."

Sherlock visibly swallows. "I—"

"How long have you known?"

"About half an hour."

John looks into his eyes. Sherlock looks vulnerable, scared, like he doesn't know what to do or say. John doesn't either, but he made up his mind before he sat at the bench.

"Let me ask you a question," John demands. "When…when…you sent me a message telling me not to 'leave', why did you do that?"

"Because I felt bad."

John stares at him. "Why?"

"Because…" Sherlock sighs. "Because I…I thought of you in that situation, I thought about how I'd feel if you were having those thoughts and it compelled me to send that message."

"What did you expect out of it?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "Nothing. I didn't expect anything, I didn't even expect a reply."

John rubs his face. "This is so confusing."

"I'm sorry John," Sherlock suddenly says. "I'm so sorry for what I've done, and the only thing to do is apologize. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't caring, I didn't know—"

John is suddenly very angry. Sherlock is making this a sob story about him. "What bothers me is that you shouldn't have even done it. You shouldn't say stuff like that to people, Sherlock! Why did you even think that was all okay, regardless of who it was?!"

Sherlock frowns deeply. John sees tears well in his eyes. "I—"

John shakes his head. "I don't care, Sherlock. I don't care. I shouldn't have even called you. To be broken up with over text without an explanation is what you deserved."

Sherlock looks at him, his eyes watering even more. "John, please—"

John snaps. "You don't know how you've hurt me! And you'll never know because you don't care what I said to you in the past, it never hurt you but it kills me! Try, for two seconds, to understand how I felt when you would say things like that to me. When anyone would say stuff like that to me! You saw, you were there!"

Sherlock looks slightly confused. "I don't—"

John pulls his phone out and opens Tumblr. He goes to his messages and holds the phone up to Sherlock, revealing dozens and dozens of hate messages, all of them telling him to kill himself and get it over with already. Sherlock scrolls and reads, his tears fall.

"John, I didn't know, I swear, I didn't—"

"No, you didn't, you didn't know. I feel dead inside, Sherlock. Every day I wake up and you're what gets me out of bed in the morning. I survive because of you, because of Sherlock Holmes. But knowing that Sherlock Holmes is…" John's heart stings and his own tears form. "God, I can't even say it."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispers. He begs.

John shakes his head. "I can't. I can't say it's okay. I'm done."

With that, John steps past Sherlock to leave, but Sherlock grabs his arm.

"John, wait—"

"No!" John yells, turning back to Sherlock. Sherlock jumps back. "No, Sherlock! This is the only thing I've ever done for myself and I'm not going to stay with someone who made me want to die every day! Hopefully…hopefully you won't see me around!"

John shoves Sherlock's hand off of him and storms out of the park, walking all the way home and not stopping because if he did he knows he'd never make it home.

John doesn't want to be on Tumblr anymore. One more hate message and he'll go over the edge, so he logs on while opening up the webcam on his laptop, then he records a message and posts it to his blog. After waiting a few minutes while it uploads, then waiting for the first few reblogs, he logs out and lays on his bed. Miraculously, he falls asleep.