SOOOOOOOOOOOOO I tried the alternate ending thing and liked it a lot. You can choose which one you'd prefer was the ending to the story. Before you read either, let me warn you; THE OTHER ENDING IS MUCH HAPPIER. ENJOY xoxo

Sherlock understood and became frantic.

"Please, Molly!" Sherlock was screaming now. A tortured expression crossed his eyes as he grew desperate. "Anything! I'll do anything! I know what it feels like, I've been in your shoes! I beg of you, please STEP BACK FROM THE LEDGE!"

"Nothing is going to change my mind," I told him simply. It was a blatant lie. I wanted to live more than anything, but at the same time to never have been born. It was easier to end my life than to work out every situation that caused me this horrible hollowness in me. I felt constantly empty and drained. Getting through the day was a struggle. No depressant medicine, no therapist or doctor, nothing was capable of curing me. So I was prepared to cure myself.

Something changed on Sherlock's face. Defeat? I'd never seen him give up. It wasn't something he was ever ready to do. Sherlock was always one to prove people wrong. Never had I seen him show a weak side.

"Then you're taking me with you."

I peered up through my tears. They ran with ferocity down my cheeks as my suicide suddenly dawned on me. Shakily, Sherlock scooted closer to my side and grasped my hand in his. "I'm not going to let you die by yourself. How could I live with myself?"

"You're... you're going to jump with me? But why?"

"Because you matter Molly. I couldn't live without you."

A fierce sob tore through my throat. A part of me wanted to believe him, but the other half knew his words were only white lies trying to drag me to my fight. I rested my head on his shoulder and cried for a long while. Nothing could stop the flow of my troubles easing out of my eyes. Crying was something I did often. It was my way of dealing, if you will. Though it did nothing to help or harm me.

"Are you sure about this?" Sherlock whispered in my ear. His voice was tender and he placed a gentle hand on my head, soothing me with deep breaths. I continued sobbing in his shoulder but managed to shake my head.

"No," I admitted.

Sherlock nodded knowingly. "But you still want to do this."

"Yes."

We sat in silence for another few minutes, letting the wind swirl around us and the melody of the city string us closer together. John was pacing behind us, oblivious to Sherlock's fatal decision. He was probably awaiting the police. It would be any minute now before they arrived.

"Let's do it now, before I change my mind," I commanded. Sherlock's tears were running as fast as mine down his unique cheek bones. "One more thing, though..." While my courage was still strong, I took Sherlock's face in my hands and lost myself in his eyes. Today they were a brilliant green. He sniffled but didn't push me away. Gingerly, I leaned closer and closer until my lips touched his. It was gentle and romantic. It was what I'd always dreamed it to be.

"Now," Sherlock murmured, and we both braced ourselves. He kicked off with his toe and we were flying. It was a glorious feeling. London did stop for us. Every car slammed its brakes. Every light flicked on. Every pedestrian dropped their bags and turned to look at the two freaks laughing their way to their deaths. I thought of my dad, and how I'd be joining him soon. I thought of Laurie, and how this would stun her, but she'd recover after time. I thought of Sherlock and how much I loved him, even when entering the afterlife. I thought of our perfect kiss. I thought of what would come. I embraced death.

It was quick and easy. I was dead by the time I met the cement.

*****John's POV*******

Nothing was scarier than seeing Sherlock hitting the concrete for the second time. It was as though my absolute worst nightmare was chasing me once again. After I'd just gotten over the horror of the first 'suicide' he'd faked, to jump off another building right away... I honestly believed that he wasn't dead. He had to have faked it again; he'd done it before. Whether he's currently still alive or not, his carcass had no pulse, and his bloodied body was the most terrible thing I have and will ever witness. His funeral consisted of Ms. Hudson, Lestrade, and me. Molly's had a couple more visitors, but not many. It was so... I have no words. Sherlock and I had a funny relationship. One that I guarantee I'll never have with anyone else.

His death brought me to alcohol, and I was soon attending regular A.A. meetings. I dealt with my troubles much like Molly did; by crumbling beneath them.

The legacy of Sherlock Holmes will never die. I'm proud to say I was his friend.

Molly on the other hand, I haven't even ventured into beginning to deal with her loss. The suicide was such a shock... I'm focusing on one crisis at a time. My therapist is due in ten minutes, so I should probably wrap this up.

R.I.P Sherlock and Molly