Authors Note: Guy's...I'm so sorry, I wrote this chapter, debated about the ending, re-wrote it, read it, debated, and re-wrote it again. I meant to post this a few days ago, I did not mean to leave you with such a terrible cliff hanger. I would promise you that it gets better but...Anyway here you go Chapter 2, very angst filled.
Sherlock stared in horror at the sight before him. In the middle of the floor lay a bloody kitchen knife. He looked up to the bathtub and there in the middle of a bathtub sitting in bloody water was John.
"John" Sherlock choked out as he fell on his knees at the side of the bathtub. He hastily placed his arms into the bath tub and pulled John out onto the floor. He then pulled John's head into his lap, gasping at the angry, red, vertical lines, that were dripping with blood. Sherlock hastily grabbed two towels and pressed them to the wounds in attempt to stop the bleeding. Sherlock could hear the sirens right outside baker street, and he silently thanked Mycroft for installing cameras in the flat so long ago.
"John can you hear me?" Sherlock said trying to keep his voice level. John grunted and opened his eyes, they looked unfocused at first but then they concentrated on Sherlock's face.
"Sherlock," John said weakly "is that you?"
Sherlock could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Yes it's me," Sherlock said feeling the first tear roll down his face. John closed his eyes and smiled weakly,
"Well shit," he said chuckling softly "I guess I was right, you bastard"
Sherlock's tears began to fall, this was all his fault. If he had just come back earlier that day like he had planned John would still be alive.
"Keep your eyes open for me, please" Sherlock said hugging John to his chest, voice breaking at the last word. He could hear the paramedics making their way up the stairs
"I...I" John said extremely softly, taking breaths raggedly for each word "left you...a note" Sherlock shook his head willing for himself to wake up, willing for this all to be a terrible nightmare.
"You are going to be fine John" Sherlock choked out "please keep fighting, stay awake."
"Sherlock," John whispered "I-I-" And then John went limp. Just then the paramedics burst in to the bathroom.
"He-he" Sherlock choked out, the paramedics felt for a pulse and looked over at Sherlock sympathetically.
"He's alive, but just barely" one of the paramedics said
"we need to get him out of here now" said the other paramedic removing the blood soaked towels from John's arms and tying tourniquets tightly to John's biceps right above his elbow. John was then lifted onto the gurney and was rushed downstairs to the waiting ambulance. Sherlock shakily stood up, and stumbled to the kitchen sink to wash off his hands. His shirt was soaked in a mixture of water and John's blood. He felt numb. Sherlock was going to surprise John later that morning by announcing he was alive. He had planned to do it early that night but had gotten lost in his mind palace till two in the morning, and had immediately jumped up and hailed a cab to go to 221B. Sherlock sat down at the kitchen table and placed his head in his hands. Suddenly he noticed the two sheets of paper, one of them was folded and his name was written in John's hand writing. Sherlock grabbed the letter and unfolded it hesitantly looking at the paper sadly, seeing that it was covered with tear stains, that were still wet in the middle. Sherlock could feel the tears beginning to form again in his eyes, and a lump rising in his throat. Taking a deep breath, and blinking his eyes a couple times to clear them, he began to read.
Dear Sherlock,
I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. I guess a part of me has, and always will believe that you are alive. So on the off chance that you might actually read this, I just wanted to say thank you. I know that our time as flat mates was not always very smooth, but I don't regret any of the time we spent together. You helped me so much Sherlock, I was so alone and you came along and saved me from myself. You helped me find a reason to keep going. Even if that meant getting dragged around all over London on a crazy wild goose chase and getting insulted. You gave my life meaning again, there was never a dull moment with you. Then after that dreadful day at Bart's when you jumped, my world came crashing down around me again. I knew there must've been a good reason but it left me alone and empty again. Please don't blame yourself for this, you simply helped post-pone the inevitable for the time that we were living together. I miss you so much Sherlock, and it took you leaving me to realize how much I care about you. I know you aren't one for sentiment but I'm going to say it anyway. I love you Sherlock, and I wish I would've told you sooner. Anyway, this is good bye my friend. Thank you again for everything
Love
John Watson
Sherlock crumpled the edge of the paper and let out a choked sob as the tears ran down his face making a puddle on the table before him. John couldn't leave him, not now. He was going to make it, there was still a chance, however slight, that he could still make it out of this. Then when John came home he would hug him and not let him go and tell him that he loved John too.
Just then his phone rang. Sherlock grabbed it frantically checking the caller ID. It was Mycroft, Sherlock answered it and waited silently for Mycroft to speak on the other end.
"I'm so sorry" Mycroft's voice said quietly "he didn't make it, lost to much blood, he didn't even make it to the hospital, there was nothing they could do" Tears began to pour down his face, denial screaming through his body. "I'm so so sorry Sherlock, Doctor John Watson is dead."
