A phone call ended and saved John Watson's life.
This is how it had all started. Three years ago. At this very spot. John had been watching from down below as he saw Sherlock plummet to the cold concrete. He remembered feeling Sherlock's pulse and finding nothing. He remembered pleading at the grave side. Begging the man to be alive. The day of the fall was the day that John Watson lost all grip on reality. When he felt dead inside.
Standing on the edge on the ledge, John looked down at the ground below. Hardly anybody around. Just how he wanted it. He didn't want people to make a fuss over him. He just wanted to be dead and gone. Only fitting he went in the same way. The harsh wind brushed against his skin but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything any more. Taking a deep breath, John got ready to take his step towards freedom.
Then a ring. The chiming of his phone. Reaching into his pocket, John removed it and looked at the screen.
The name must be wrong. That couldn't be right. It just couldn't. He pressed the accept button and held the phone to his ear.
"He- hello?"
"John. Get down."
"S- You're dead. I'm dreaming."
"No you're not, John. It's real."
"But you died. I took your pulse. I saw your blood. I- I went to your funeral." John's voice cracked as he tried to talk through tears.
"I know, John. I was there."
"You're a ghost."
"That's illogical, John."
"Where are you then? I don't see you! You can't be real. It's just my mind playing tricks."
"Turn around, John."
John gulped as he slowly turned around. On the roof stood the figure of Sherlock Holmes. Dressed the same way in which John last saw him. His scarf and coat flailing in the wind. There was no blood here like the blood in his dreams. "Sh-"
"You can stop talking on the phone now, John, and get down."
"N-" The word stung in his throat. "I can't. I'm afraid you'll disappear."
John looked down at the rough roof floor, he heard the echoing sound of footsteps getting closer towards him. Soon two feet were before him. In a familiar Italian shoe. His heart hammered against his chest, ear still firmly pressed to his phone. "I'm still alive, John."
A laugh caught in John's throat. "Good deduction, Sherlock, but I hoped you'd go deep-"
"When you get down, John." Sherlock brought his hand up to John's ear, removed the phone and pulled down John into a deep embrace. Not only for sentiment but to protect the doctor from shock. To make him realise he wasn't alone and he would never be alone again.
John Watson never changed his phone after that day. It was a reminder that salvation was just a phone call away.