The Reichenbach Fall

Permanent Silence

Pulling up outside of the tall building, John's phone started to ring as Rose saw something that made her heart skip a beat.

"Talk him down!" She said to John fractions of a second before he answered the call, not yet seeing where his best friend was, but knowing that he wouldn't keep up with the young woman who had just taken off at a full run towards the building.

"Hello?" John said, not bothering to check the caller ID, but finding it was a familiar voice on the end of the line.

"John..."

"Hey Sherlock, you okay?" John asked, starting to make his way towards the building he'd not long left.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came," The voice on the phone told him firmly.

John only frowned at this. "No, I'm coming in."

"Just, do as I ask!" Sherlock ordered his friend, the quiver in his voice more prominent, breath more raged than John had ever heard; and nothing worried him more as he realised this was the close to begging he'd ever heard from the usually prideful and cocky man. "Please!"

"Okay..." John said, trying to agree and do as he was told, the seriousness of the situation – whatever it was – dawning on the ex-soldier as he turned away from his destination and walked back towards where the cab had dropped them off. "Where?"

After a few steps, he heard a slightly calmer Sherlock. "Stop there."

"Sherlock?" John asked, looking around as he tried to find his friend who could obviously see him.

"Okay, look up." Sherlock told him, voice turning dark. "I'm on the rooftop."

Eyes widening, John turned his gaze towards the sky, seeing the familiar billowing of a long coat flickering in the wind as Sherlock Holmes – his best friend – stood on the edge of the rooftop of the tall building.

"Oh, god..." John muttered, seeing that he was stood right on the edge and now fully understood what Rose had meant as she ran off. Talk him down... because he's going to jump!

Having seen the familiar shape on the rooftop of the building they pulled up outside of, Rose had shouted a quick order to her friend and ran as fast as her legs could carry her towards the building itself before anyone could tell her to stop.

Slamming any door in her path open hard enough to dent the walls behind them, she gave no care and only thought of the quickest way to get to the roof of the building before the unthinkable could happen.

Every nightmare she had dreamt since working with the Consulting Detective had revolved around his demise and death - being shot, tortured to death, strangled, beaten, broken beyond repair in so many ways - and now those nightmares were becoming disturbingly true.

Ignoring the ache in her lungs and the protest of her legs, the young woman pushed herself further than she ever had, weaving through crowds and launching herself up flight after flight of stairs cursing their very existence for coming between her and her friend, and for only reminding her of exactly how tall the infernal building actually was.

After far longer than she'd have liked, she finally saw the door to the roof, throwing it open as she panted, praying he was still there. The scene that met her made her eyes fly open however and she was quite sure that if she hadn't already emptied her stomach, she would have thrown up at the sight that met her.

On the floor was Jim Moriarty, the back of his head missing as his own brain spilling out onto the rooftop, blood pooling impossibly large around him as he stared lifelessly to the sky. Even in death he was the epitome of a violent end, and yet his face still seemed to gloat his victory.

Putting the dead criminal to the back of her mind, she instead focused on her friend, still stood on the edge of the roof, though the wind alone made her worry that even if he changed his mind, a slight breeze would be enough to throw the thin man into the air.

He brought a phone down from his ear, hanging up as he threw it backwards, but as he did so, he saw his faithful assistant behind him, obviously having just made it to the top. Always was a quick one, he thought briefly, a flash of pride at his protege in that moment.

As she looked at him though, she saw something she'd never seen – other than when it had been a show for a case – and her heart broke at the pure sight of his red rimmed eyes, tears flowing down his sharp features.

Sherlock Holmes was crying.

"Sherlock..." She called to him, moving forward slowly as she held out a hand. "Don't..."

Hearing John in the street, they could both hear him clearly screaming Sherlock's name.

"Forgive me..." He told her as he looked over his shoulder. "Please."

With those last words, the Rose screamed "NO!" as he took the last step into thin air, coat flickering a protest as the man fell, a sickening thud sounding as he hit the pavement.

Running forward as he took that step, Rose got to the edge just in time to see a crowd start to form around the broken body of her friend, the sickening splatter of his lifeblood on the pavement clear to her, even at the height she was at. For some reason, gruesome as the scene was – and she was sure she'd never forget the sight – the horrified young woman couldn't look away.

It was in that moment, she remembered exactly what the dead man behind her had promised.

I owe you a fall, Sherlock

Oh god, she thought as the tears spilled over, frozen on the spot as she watched the crowd, a terrified John make his way to Sherlock – to his corpse – and check for a pulse, for any sign of life. But as he fell back to collapse on the cold pavement, she realised with a sob that he hadn't found any.

She had to move, to do something, but all she could do was watch the patch of street below her, even after her friend had been taken away, the puddle of scarlet the only thing left of him.

That was how the authorities had found her, Lestrade being the only one who could coax her down once more, not that she even remembered how she got off that dreadful rooftop.

All her nightmares – all her fears, worries and dread – they were nothing compared to this feeling that enveloped her.

Sherlock... What have you done?