Author's Note: Sorry guys! Wow, I'm a shitty person for leaving you guys. Well, here's a sad thing that I wrote as filler for fun! I'm sort of tired…
Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Don't credit me for this stuff, okay? I don't feel like getting imprisoned over this.
John can't describe it. This… feeling. It's as if someone took away half of his heart. But someone did take out half his heart, honestly. His best friend did.
Sherlock Holmes. His name was plastered throughout the newspapers. Sherlock Holmes. He jumped off of a building. Sherlock Holmes. He was John's friend.
It was Sherlock bleeding Holmes that caused him this pain. The boy from the train was gone. He was so happy, and then he took his own life…
And John wonders why. Why did he jump? Was he depressed? Is that why he was smiling more? Eating more? Talking more? Is that why he cried in his sleep? Why was he depressed? Was he always like this?
Thinking upon that last question, John looks back at his memories of the other boy. Year 1: often smiled, full of happiness and life. Year 2: Similar, but more open to John. Year 3: Withdrawn, quiet, saddened, and just… different. Year 4: Like Year 3, but smiled more often. Made more jokes. Laughed more. He seemed- oh god, why hadn't he seen it before- happier when he was closer to The Fall.
Tears roll down his cheeks. Why would he jump?
Sherlock awakes to sobbing sounds. Who was crying? To his surprise, it sounds like John. But John never cries… except when he jumped. Sherlock cringes at the thought. It must be nightmares.
Slowly, he stumbles over to John's bed, where- sure enough- John was tossing and turning while crying. Unsure of what to do, Sherlock pats John's head. "Shh, it's okay…"
John's eyes snap open. Shock fills his facial features when he sees Sherlock. Then fear, and finally anger. "You're dead. You died. Just leave me alone."
"John, listen to me. I never died and you're not dreaming. We're at school, remember?"
"Oh God. I'm fine! Totally and completely fine! Yes? Yes! Just go back to sleep, okay?"
"Hey guys, 'mit your undying love some other t'me, would ya? We're try'n 't sleep."
"You really should come out of the closet, Munchel! Fraylick loves you too!"
"Don't tell them that!" objects Fraylick.
"You're gay?" asks Driver.
"Damn, I owe Morgan a galleon. She knew it, didn't she?" asks Crawford.
"Everyone shut up and go to sleep! And no, Crawford, Singer's just a decent shipper."
"Sherlock, people are going to think-"
"I don't give a damn what people think. What were you dreaming about?"
"Just… The Fall. When you… you know…"
"Oh." Sherlock's face darkens.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Go back to bed, okay?"
"Fine, but I'm not really tired. I could stay up and keep you company."
"No, you need sleep. Sleep. You didn't sleep at all before the last task."
A pang of guilt runs through Sherlock. "Okay. But you should know that I'm not depressed."
"Bullshit. You won't eat, you won't sleep, you play that violin for hours, and you won't talk to anyone expect for me unless I force you- you're depressed."
"No I'm not."
"Mmm-hmm."