I can turn it on
Be a good machine
I can hold the weight of worlds
If that's what you need
Be your everything

I can do it
I can do it
I'll get through it

But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human

ooo

Step one, you say, 'We need to talk.'
He walks, you say, 'Sit down. It's just a talk.'
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through

ooo

Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you wanna cry
It started with the perfect kiss then
We could feel the poison set in
"Perfect" couldn't keep this love alive
You know that I love you so
I love you enough to let you go

ooo

Oh, please don't go
Let me have you just one moment more
Oh, all I need
All I want is just one moment more
You've got to hold me and maybe I'll believe

So hold me
Even though I know you're leaving

ooo

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime.
So, let me say before we part:
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you.
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart.
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you'll have rewritten mine
By being my friend.

ooo

No pain could be deeper
No life could be cheaper
No point anymore if she can't love me
No hope she would do so
No dream to pursue so
I look to myself, despise all the things I see
For I know that she
Cannot set me free
Let the world be done with me


By the time Moriarty reappeared, Sherlock had filled six journals and begun on his last one.


"You machine."

Those two words out of John's mouth nearly destroyed Sherlock then and there. He knew he had to get John back to their flat so he could go to the roof alone, which was absolutely essential to his plan, but it killed him to hear John call him a machine. He knew John would only hate him more after today, but... for some reason hearing John call him a machine was even more like a knife in his heart than when John left him the night they almost slept together. It took everything he had to not break down and tell John the truth, but John's safety was paramount.


Molly was such an amazing woman. Sherlock hated that she wasted her love on him. She deserved so much better; so did John, but Sherlock was much too selfish to give up on pursuing him. When he came back, he would try to woo John again, properly this time. For now, though, he needed to disappear and make the world believe he was dead.

"What do you need?" Molly had asked, looking at him with complete trust, so different from the way John had looked at him the last time he had been in the same room as his blogger.

"You," Sherlock had replied. He told her his plan, everything he needed from her to fake his death. Afterwards, he needed one more favor from her. "I also need you to keep these safe for me." he said quietly, handing her his six completed journals. The seventh he was keeping with him wherever he went in the world. It would be his link to John. Molly nodded, taking the journals delicately and clutching them to her as though they were incredibly precious. "And... watch over John? Don't let him do anything stupid or blame himself for anything..." he practically whispered.

Molly nodded sharply. "Of course, Sherlock," she said. "Come back soon."

He smiled at her, kissing her cheek. "You are far too kind to me, Molly Hooper," he said. "Thank you."

Molly had tears in her eyes. "Just... Don't let this be a last goodbye. Come back safely."

Sherlock smiled very slightly. "I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises." He headed to the door. "Goodbye, Molly Hooper." With that, he left, not looking back to see the fear and worry for him in her eyes.


That had been hours ago and now he was standing on the roof, Moriarty's corpse nearby. John would be there any moment and then he'd have to do it. He'd have to die. He cared about Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, but they were not John. Moriarty could have saved himself the trouble of hiring two of the assassins because Sherlock would do anything to save John. If he hadn't come up with his plan, he would have actually killed himself if that was what it took to keep his John alive.

He saw John's cab pull up by Bart's just as he stepped onto the ledge of the roof. He took a deep, calming breath and dialed John's number, holding his mobile up to his ear as he waited to hear John's beautiful voice.

"Hello?"John's voice answered, not yet panicked, as the man himself stepped out of the cab.

"John..." Sherlock breathed, swallowing to keep his voice sounding the way he wanted it to. Even if John didn't see him as a lover, Sherlock knew that the doctor cared deeply for him as a friend. Sherlock's death would hurt John so deeply, especially because he would blame himself. Sherlock knew that John wouldn't think that he killed himself because he was a fake. No, he would think that Sherlock killed himself because John hadn't loved him back. The guilt would eat him alive. Sherlock just hoped that Molly would be able to keep her promise and save John from himself.

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"John asked worriedly as he started jogging towards the hospital.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now," Sherlock said forcefully. He needed John in a specific spot for his plan to work.

"No, I'm coming in," John said, talking over him.

"Just do as I ask," Sherlock said, his voice frantic and filled with desperation. He needed to trust his acting skills now more than ever. John stopped walking at his tone. "Please."

John turned on his heel and started walking back in the direction from which he came. His expression was filled with confusion, but Sherlock knew that there was trust in his eyes. John always trusted him, even when he was being mad. Even if he did survive his mission, John would probably never trust him so completely again. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment as his heart clenched at the thought. "Where?"

Sherlock waited until John was standing in the perfect spot to say, "Stop there."

John immediately stopped and looked around, trying to spot him. "Sherlock?" he asked, unable to spot the detective's coat or dark curls.

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop," Sherlock said, his voice monotonous. It took absolutely all of his acting ability to keep his emotions from his voice. This would be the last time he would see John for a very long time, assuming he survived to see him again and that John would even want to see him after today.

John immediately looked up, horror on his face when he saw just how close to the edge Sherlock was standing. "Oh God," he breathed, blinking as if the image of Sherlock on the roof was just a mirage and would go away if he just blinked.

Sherlock almost smiled. His John, his beautiful John... 'I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do to you, my love,' Sherlock thought as he stared at John's beloved face, storing every detail in his Mind Palace. "I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this," he said into the phone, the resignation of a doomed man in his voice.

He knew the second John's mouth formed words that weren't accompanied by sound other than his breathing that John knew what would happen, why Sherlock was on the roof, but the stubborn man refused to believe it just yet. He wouldn't understand that Sherlock was doing all this to save him. Sherlock wished that John had his deductive ability so he would know the truth, but if it was John on the roof and him on the ground, he knew that his mind would not be functioning any better than John's. "What's going on?" John managed to ask anxiously after only a second of inability to form words.

"An apology," Sherlock said calmly. Because of the distance between them and the sun being behind Sherlock, John wouldn't be able to see the agony that flashed across his face as he said, "It's all true."

"Wh-wh-what?" John asked, taking a step back in disbelief.

"Everything they said about me," Sherlock clarified. "I invented Moriarty." He turned to look at the body, unsure even then if his enemy was really dead or if it was yet another trick.

When John took a long time to reply, Sherlock almost thought that John believed him. "Why are you saying this?"

Sherlock turned back towards John, only barely able to stop himself from sobbing at the thought that John might not think he was real. "I'm a fake," he forced himself to say, some of the pain he felt bleeding out into his voice.

John blinked. "Sherlock..." he said, his voice admonishing.

"The newspapers were right all along," Sherlock lied, not hiding his pain anymore as his voice became tearful. "I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes," he instructed, knowing that John would never do that, even if he believed it himself.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up," John said fiercely. He clearly wanted to believe in him, even if a part of him didn't. "The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever," Sherlock said, trying to make John believe his lie enough to let him go without the guilt and pain he would feel if he believed that Sherlock was real.

"You could," John said with conviction, without any hesitation, in fact.

Sherlock let out a sharp breath of a laugh even as he felt the tears start to fall. His John, faithful to the last. John would never believe the lies people told about Sherlock, even if it would save him so much pain. Sherlock found that he couldn't speak for a moment when hit with the full force of John's devotion. It broke his already shattered heart even more. "I researched you," he lied, trying again to make John believe him. "Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." He sniffed, trying to stop himself from breaking down and sobbing. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick." 'My beautiful, amazing John... Right now, I'm glad that you don't love me the way I love you. This would hurt you so much more if you did...'

John closed his eyes, shaking his head. Sherlock could practically hear his thoughts: It wasn't possible. Sherlock couldn't have been lying to him this whole time. "No. All right, stop it now," he said as if that would make Sherlock laugh and tell him he was only joking and they could go back home for tea and biscuits and discuss what to do next to recover Sherlock's credibility. How Sherlock wished it was that simple, but it wasn't. Nothing was ever that simple. He started walking towards Bart's again.

Sherlock knew this would happen, that John would try to reach him to physically stop him if that's what it took. Sherlock couldn't let that happen. For them both to survive, Sherlock had to die. "No, stay exactly where you are," he said forcefully. "Don't move."

John walked back the few steps he had taken, raising his free hand as if in surrender. "All right," he said, clearly trying to placate Sherlock so he wouldn't jump. 'Really, John,' Sherlock thought, 'by now you should know better than that. This can't be avoided.'

Sherlock's own free hand was stretched towards John, as if he could touch his hand by sheer will alone. "Keep your eyes fixed on me," he said firmly before his voice cracked and let his emotions through again as he continued. "Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" John asked, suspicion and worry filling his voice.

Sherlock swallowed. He closed his eyes. This was it. This was the end. He sincerely hoped that the end was only temporary. "This phone call... it's, er..." he took a deep breath to find the courage to destroy his best friend and the love of his life, "it's my note." He paused to let John absorb his words. "It's what people do, don't they... leave a note?"

John shook his head, lowering the mobile from his ear momentarily as if he couldn't bear to have his worst fears confirmed. "Leave a note when?" he demanded, morbid curiosity clearly getting the better of him.

"Goodbye, John," Sherlock said instead of answering his question. He didn't need to answer; John already knew.

John shook his head slightly, taking another step back. John was a man of action, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to stand still when filled with emotions like these. "No," he said. Sherlock could hear the pleading in his voice. "Don't."

Sherlock stared down at John for a few moments. He knew he had to say it one last time before he left, even if John didn't want to hear it. "I love you, John Watson," he murmured. "I never lied about that." He ended the call and dropped his phone before John could have a chance to reply. He saw John lower his own mobile from his head and take a step towards him, anguish on his face. He could hear John shout his name, even from this distance.

Sherlock raised his arms straight out to his sides and let himself fall forward.


John watched in horror as his best friend fell to his death. Everything, time, sound, sight, smell disappeared as he heard that sickening crunch as Sherlock's body hit the ground. John's thoughts disappeared. His medical brain told him that there was no way Sherlock could have survived an impact like that, but he forced those thoughts away with the rest of them as his body acted on instinct and ran towards where Sherlock had landed. As he moved past the corner of the building, he got his first glimpse of it: Sherlock laying motionless with an ever-growing pool of blood like a halo around his head. John would never forget that sight for as long as he lived.

Just after he had a glimpse of it, a man on a bike ran into him and knocked him to the ground. He lay as motionless as Sherlock for a few seconds as his jostled mind tried to piece itself back together enough to make his body get off the ground and hurry towards the people who had gathered around the body. Sherlock's body. Everything was hazy, his head dizzy and spinning as he took stumbling steps towards the crowd, trying to push his way past them to get to Sherlock. "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please," he said, sounding almost drunk. He didn't hear the words coming out of his own mouth or even know what he said. His body was acting on instinct as his mind had completely shut down. He movements and voice grew frantic when they wouldn't let him pass. "No, he's my friend. He's my friend. Please." He finally made it to Sherlock's side, grasping his wrist to check for a pulse. What was left of his mind and soul shattered when he didn't feel one. Not a single beat of the heart that many believed Sherlock didn't have.

Someone gently pulled his hand off of Sherlock, trying to get him away from the body. "You don't understand..." John said, not hearing or registering his own words. "I love him... I... I love him..." He repeated that phrase over and over again without realizing it. His conscious mind had absolutely no idea that he loved Sherlock the way Sherlock loved him, it was his subconscious that had known all along that was talking. He tried to reach for Sherlock again, but several people were holding him back as paramedics loaded Sherlock's body onto a gurney. John collapsed onto the ground, still repeating the words he didn't know he meant like a mantra. When he saw Sherlock's eyes staring unseeingly forward, he lost the already tenuous hold he had on consciousness and sank into blissful oblivion.


The tears fall as I watch you leave
Baby don't go...

...

I know this love affair is not what we need
But I'd give up everything to just feel you breathe
I'm missing you, begging you, come back to me
Baby don't go...

They say you don't know what you've got til it's gone...


A/N: So... Yeah... I don't really have words right now... but I kept my promise to update...

I'd like to thank DaringD, Kitty, spitfirelady, EJBRUSH1952, ill-interrogate-the-cat, jaimi-or-jaemi, The Archfiend, Tanja88, EJBRUSH1952, Cantuono, Teddybear0410, Serenityofthematrix, jaimi-or-jaemi, spitfirelady, kittysayzmeow, and my annonymous reviewers: Jakky, Kitty, and nobody for the reviews. If I said your name twice, it's because you reviewed the actual chapter and the A/N.

Special shout out to The Archfiend, EJBRUSH1952, spitfirelady, and DaringD for correctly guessing at least one of the songs. Teddybear0410, you got the right original singer, but wrong song, sorry, buddy. Keep guessing, though!

The aforementioned songs are:

"Breakeven" by Max Schneider and "When You're Gone" by Ali Brustofski.