Sorry that the last chapter was terrible, I do apologize. Please forgive me.
Back to Sherlock.
The damaged memories were causing pain to Sherlock. Tampered scenarioes were playing in Sherlock's head. Even if it was all in Sherlock's mind, the pain would be real. One scenario had already played, and this was the next.
A flash of light burst in Sherlock's mind. His body writhed and turned. Another dream played.
John stood petrified on the rooftop of St. Bartholomews Hospital. He wasn't clever, he wasn't Sherlock. But it was him who had to fall. He was the one who had to die, or else Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock get shot by a sniper. Everyone you love will die, if you don't, dearest Watson. Moriarty's threat ringing and biting at John's ears. Why me?, John thought, Why must I be sacrificed?
John peeked over his shoulder. A dead Moriarty holding a gun was on the floor, wearing a crown of red. John looked back to the city of London. So peaceful and calm it was, he hated it. Nothing could save him from this horrible, cruel twist of fate. There was no homeless network, no Mycroft, no anything to save him. But he had to do it. For Mrs. Hudson. For Mary. For Sherlock.
He triapsed to the ledge of the building. This was it. This would be the end of him.
John took deep breaths and shut his watering eyes hard while pursing his lips. Sorrow, anger, and fear bubbled and swirled in him. He reluctantly opened his eyes. Beads of tears stuck to his eyelashes. He clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. John stared down on the road. A black cab pulled up to the road. John took his phone and called Sherlock as John saw him get out the cab. Pull yourself together, John, He thought, It'll be over soon. Sherlock answered his cell.
"Sherlock. I'm up on the building in front of you."
"What? Why?", Sherlock saw at the tiny figure on top of the hospital. His eyes widened in terror. "Oh, no. No. No. No. . NO!" He sprinted to the sidewalk by the hospital, right in front of John."Wha-How-Who-Why, John, Why?!" Sherlock was beyond terrified. His breathe began to quicken.
"Sherlock, Sherlock! Calm down. Please. Listen, Moriarty trapped me up here and now if I don't commit suicide, you, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson will die."said John as clearly and coolly as he could. You have to be strong, for him, John. Be strong, damnit! Come on! But being collective about death wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do.
"John, please, don't! You're all I have! I can't lose you. Please! John! You're my only friend. Stop it, now! Stop this. There has to be another way." Sherlock was on edge. He was right; John was his only friend.
John peered down at Sherlock. I'm sorry, he wanted to say, I'm sorry that I have to put you through all this pain, I'm sorry, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Both seemed to be on the verge of tears.
"Please."
John's hand began to shake. So did his voice. "Sherlock, you have to stop. Sherlock, do this, for me. Tell Mary that I love her, and that I always will even after death. Tell her that she was one of the two people that I care and love most about in the world. Tell Mrs. Hudson that if she never here, I would have never met the greatest man in the world. You were right. If Mrs. Hudson had ever left, England would really have definitely fell. I would have." A small, feeble laugh came up from John.
Only more guilt and pain devoured Sherlock.
"Listen, Sherlock, with all the time we have left, hearing each other's voices, before I, you know, I, uh, I want to tell you this. Throughout all the times we've walked together, I've always wondered of the danger that overhung the both of us. But I knew that we protected each other as we drifted back towards trouble. We're intertwined, the two of us. And.. I was alone and depressed, and you've saved me from death. Perhaps you may say the same, I don't know. One thing's for sure, though, as you have saved me, I shall, and will, return the favor.
"Oh, and one last favor: Please be strong, for Mary, for Mrs. Hudson, for me, Sherlock. Will you do that for me?"
"John." Sherlock's small and afraid voice came out. He closed his eyes in pain and looked back at his friend. For once the well-spoken detective was at a lost for words.
"All of this, Sherlock, all of it is for the people I love. It's not out of selfishness or hatred or any of those sort of ideas."
Sherlock was paralyzed on the sidewalk. "I 've always known that, but please.."
"Sherlock, it will be okay. We'll be alright." It was a lie.
Of course it was.
'A sad smile came on John's lips. His voice had cracked as he said his final words.
"Good-bye... Sherlock."
Tears rained onto the concrete, both John's and Sherlock's.
John threw away his phone. He spread out his arms and as well as his enormous white wings. He took one last breath. One last second.
Off the ledge.
He flew towards the ground.
"JOHN!"
John's body met the concrete.
The blood seem to splash everywhere. So much blood in one soldier. Too much.
Sherlock's stomach began to twist and turn as he stood horrified at the man at his feet. Blood ran along his hairline and onto the ground.
Reminants of the sad smile was still on John's face. Broken pieces of life was still in him. One last thought played out on John's tape, For you, Sherlock, the person I love and care about most in the world. His one last punchline.
Then the brilliant wings gently carried the tired soldier's soul up to the sunny and clear sky.
Sherlock dropped to the floor besides the dead Watson, sobbing. Streams of clear flowed down his face and onto John. He shook the poor man in his arms. Sherlock's lost voice now spoke up and thundered.
"J-John. No. JOHN. P-Please. Be a-alive. PLEASE John, J-John. JOHN. PLEASE. NO, oh no, God no. "
It was no use. There was no reason for John to suddenly regain life again. Sherlock had to fight the pain.
Soon enough, people began to enshroud the place of sorrow, of death, of loss. They tried to cast their thick ropes had pull Sherlock away, but he ripped them apart as if they were spiderwebs.
Sherlock quickly talked to the dead body again."John, I'm sorry. Can you hear me? I'm sorry. For every single stupid word, every arrogant action of mine, every single trick. See? See, John? Don't you see? I learned much from you. You taught me of love, and caring, of humanity. You taught me to see past the lines of people. "
You helped me to see the colors of humans. Your colors were beautiful. No word of any prosaic language could describe your colors."
John never heard Sherlock's words.
His voice began to crack, mind was alike.
"You were the best and the wisest man that I've ever had the good fortune of knowing. Don't you remember? Remember the speech I gave? When you were getting married? John? And when..." Sherlock slowed. He layed down on John and buried himself John's chest. It was warm. He closed his eyes. Sherlock needed warmth. Especially from the cold fact that his only friend in the world was dead.
"John." Sherlock's voice was muffled by John's jacket."I need you. Don't leave me. Please. I am the one who owes you so much. I was alone. So alone. And I don't want to go back."
Sherlock's eyes began close. Rushes of dull colors softly lifted him up and carried him.
He saw another color on the cement, only it was brilliant unlike the others. John. It must be nice laying on the floor, what a nice place to sleep. I would definitely join him. Back and forth, Sherlock swayed. A long fissure broke open down his mind. Logic began to pour out of it.
Sherlock turned what was left of his attention to the sky. The edge of Sherlock's vision started to darken. The sky is so black today. What a lovely place to be. How lovely. How lucky John is to be there.
John.
John.
Wait.
John!
Sherlock fought against the blurry colors to go run back, but he was too weak. He had stumbled along the way. The colors ran with him.
"John! Don't worry! I'm- coming- to- help- you!"
Too late. Much too late.
The many arms retrieved Sherlock away. His head had leaned forwards as he was taken. Drops of despair were falling.
"No, stop! He's my friend! He's my friend! Stop! Stop.."
They didn't. Sherlock struggled against their ropes but it was no use. He tried to reach out, but grabbed nothingness.
"NO! JOHN! JOHN!.." Sherlock shrieked even harder, for all the world to hear.
No.
Stop it.
John needs me.
I'm his friend.