It was odd, knowing that you were going to die. Of course, you hoped that you would be able to escape for a little while longer, but there would always be collateral damage. And it was John who would be in the line of fire.
It was a week before what would soon be known as the Reichenbach Fall. Sherlock and John had spent a quiet day in at 221B Baker Street. John was simply happy that Sherlock was avoiding the media for the moment. Sherlock, on the other hand, was thinking. He knew the move Moriarty would make, even if he didn't yet know how the other man would do it. And he knew there was a very good chance he would not survive.
"John, what would you do if you knew you were going to die?"
"Sorry?"
"It's a simple enough question."
John turned and stared at the dark haired man, wondering what on earth had come over him. The man in question sat in a chair with his violin, which had been silent for some time.
"Well, if there was nothing I could do about it, I'd spend it with my loved ones. I'd wrap up anything I wanted to finish, and I'd just make the best of it."
"What if you weren't near your family?"
"Friends, if I could. If not, I'd phone. Write letters if I had to. Tell them how much I loved them. Sherlock, what has come over you?"
"I'm trying to deduce a victim's thoughts and actions before suicide. It would be helpful in cases. I've never thought about why normal people might die of their own will and I have probably overlooked evidence or hypotheses for this reason."
John rolled his eyes. Only Sherlock could take such a human question and turn it into casework. His own motives for the intentional overdoses were probably much different than other people, although John had never pried about it.
"John? Come sit on the couch. I'll play you my new piece and you can give me your opinion." Sherlock looked at John and felt his heart twist with something dangerously close to emotion. He considered it and deduced that he was feeling melancholy. The whole day had felt like a low. It was the calm before the storm and it was a storm Sherlock wasn't sure he would survive. Maybe…jut maybe…he could weaken his will and give in to the emotion. Just for tonight. Just for a little while.
"Sherlock?" John's voice centered Sherlock and he picked up the bow. Closing his eyes, he began to play. The piece was one he'd been composing all day. Into the music he'd poured his walled off emotions, his guilt, and his sadness. This song was the letter to his friends, the time with his family, the tying up of last ends. John didn't know, but this song was Sherlock's apology.
When he finished the song John seemed a bit snuffly. He shook his head and then smiled at Sherlock. "That was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. Thank you, Sherlock."
Sherlock put the violin gently back into the case and closed the lid. He sat down next to John and for a long moment only silence filled the air. John seemed to sense that something was different today because he asked Sherlock tentatively, "Can I give you a hug?" Sherlock usually reserved his hugs for Mrs. Hudson and sometimes John was jealous of the easy warmth they shared.
In answer, Sherlock simply flopped into John's lap and wrapped his arms tightly around John's waist. John seemed shocked at this uncharacteristic and childish gesture before wrapping his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock was not used to feeling these emotions of...sadness and, regret? When he had overdosed in a suicide attempt, it was to escape Mycroft, to make a point that his brother could not control whether he lived or died. Now, Sherlock was hoping to escape Moriarty's grasp through a fake death, but there were so many unknown variables. He very may end up dead. Sherlock knew the mastermind would probably threaten anyone important to him. The logical victim would be John, as Moriarty had already seen the man's loyalty. Sherlock didn't know how, but it wasn't hard to deduce that John would be used as leverage to ensure Sherlock's death.
Although Sherlock was loath to admit it, he cared for John. He loved him. He was the family Mycroft wasn't and his parents refused to be. John was the friend he'd never had, the only person to put up with him and even enjoy spending time with the high maintenance genius.
John did not seem to notice Sherlock's inner turmoil, sitting in a comfortable silence. As the fire burned lower, Sherlock's violin music seemed to circle the room. It was then that Sherlock decided to do a few last things for John, to "wrap things up". Soon only the soft breathing of the two men filled the room. Only the clock and dying fire witnessed their sleep, or the fact that neither loosened their embrace the entire night.
Sherlock sat in Molly's new living room, uncomfortable at the change of scenery. After John almost discovered him at Molly's, Mycroft had insisted they move to a flat on the opposite side of London. Molly would still check into her original flat from time to time to keep up the pretense of living there, while Mycroft would station one of his female employees to live there full time. To the general public and John, one of Molly's old school friends was staying with her for moral support after Sherlock's death.
For Sherlock, however, it was an unfamiliar building. He didn't know the layout of the rooms and furniture, he didn't know where to find his few belongings, and it didn't feel like home. The new smells bombarded him and caused his nose to burn: bleach, Pledge, and Windex. The chairs were stiff and unused. His sheets hadn't come yet so the cheap cotton chafed his skin. Hence why he was sitting stiffly in the living room.
He did have one small spot of comfort. The new flat had a CD player, which Molly's old one hadn't (after an experiment had gone wrong and damaged it). Now, Sherlock was listening to a CD that contained only one song: the song that he'd played for John on their last "good" night together. Sherlock remembered the night in perfect detail and could almost feel John's arms wrapping around him. Feeling more alone than he had in a while, Sherlock slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The violin music slowly flowed around him, lulling him into sleep.
John sat in his living room alone. Mary was asleep in bed, but his restlessness had caused him to seek solace elsewhere. It was nights like these, when he felt the depression setting in, that he pulled out the CD. It had taken John a long time to find it. After Sherlock's death, he hadn't been able to even walk into 221B. He'd taken the few necessities he'd needed and immediately gotten a new flat. A few months later, however, he'd finally summoned the courage to go back and collect some more of his belongings.
Of course, the flat was still in the disasterish state Sherlock had left it in that last day. He'd had to thoroughly clean off the desk to find all his papers and books. In doing so, he'd found the CD. It was in a clear jewel case with the words "For John" written on it. Wondering what on earth it could be, John had asked Mrs. Hudson if he could borrow her CD player for a minute and she'd complied. The song started without preamble, but within a few seconds John recognized it. It was a longer version of the song Sherlock had played for John that one night so long ago. The high quality sound meant that Sherlock must have gone to a studio to record it. He must have known how much his suicide would hurt John and left this as an apology.
The thought of Sherlock caring so much always brought tears to John's eyes and now was no exception. The small man sat back against his couch and closed his eyes, letting the music carry him back to that night. He wished, more than anything in the world, that he could hug Sherlock right now, hug him and never let go. But that was a wish that would never come true. Pushing the thought aside, John immersed himself in the music. He never noticed when the song ended because he was already asleep.
A/N- Thank you to everyone for the lovely reviews, etc! They are always appreciated! If you catch any typos, name misusage, etc, please let me know! I don't always catch things when I proofread, or it's quite late when I'm writing ;P