Author's Note: Hello again. Very sorry for the delay in posting this next part, I had a big pile of coursework and then I injured my hand by losing a 'fight' with a pool table! But here's what we have... I did intend this story to only be a two-part thing but it seems unfinished but also this is a good place to stop this chapter... hmm so I shall continue writing and see how many chapters come out of it!

Disclaimer: As ever, don't own any of it. BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle etc etc.

I hung onto the guard rail, with a grip so tight I could feel the metal cutting into my palms, retching. I took one deep shaky breath after another, after perhaps five minutes of hanging there and I came back to myself enough to spin round and face him, "But I saw you fall!" It was meant as an accusation but it came out sounding like a plea.

Sherlock broke the gaze, he looked at his shoes, another out of character action, surely if I was imagining this I would have made him act how he had always acted and sound as he had always sounded. In other words; arrogant and confident.

When he looked up again there were tears in his eyes, "I'm sorry John! I needed you to believe I was dead in order to keep you safe." He paused and glanced around, "I wouldn't have shown myself even now but there isn't much point in protecting you from assassins when they aren't the biggest danger."

I felt my legs give way underneath me and fell into a heap on the floor, this was just all too much.

I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face, I just couldn't bear this. It was a while before I realised he had sat down next to me. I turned to him, tears having streaked down my face by this point, "Go away! You're not real, you can't really be here, leave me alone!"

I almost screamed the last part.

He didn't move an inch, he only responded, still in his calm even voice, "You don't really want me to leave though, do you?"

If I had any strength left in my body I think I would have punched him again for that comment. Instead I curled myself tighter and tried to block out the world.

I couldn't process any more, after that all I have is flashes of images and sound, maybe I finally slept, sat on that gravel path. The next thing that really registered was Lestrade showing up.

I heard the car wheels crunch to a halt, a car door open and shut and then the familiar voice saying, "Bloody hell!"

At this I raised my head slightly, and in doing saw I saw Sherlock walking towards Lestrade and shaking his hand, smiling slightly apologetically as he did.

"How the hell...?"

Sherlock just shook his head, and gestured down towards me. Lestrade took the hint and walked towards me, "Hey John, this is strange huh?"

I raised my head slowly, as uncertain of the reality of Lestrade as I was of Sherlock. I frowned at him in confusion before asking, "What.." I stopped surprised to hear my voice so hoarse and rough, "... What are you doing here?"

He looked just as confused as I must have, "Well, you asked me to come. You said it was important in your text."

I continued to frown but Lestrade turned to face Sherlock as he approached us both.

He hovered nervously for a moment and then offered a mobile phone towards me, I looked at him with the same confused expression.

He answered the unasked question, "It's your phone John, here take it back."

"How did you...?" It was taking half my energy to deny that this was even happening, and most of the other half to stay awake.

"You gave it to me." Even Sherlock looked confused now, or maybe that was concern, another unfamiliar sight. "I asked to borrow your phone and you handed it to me, don't you remember?"

Lestrade crouched down in front of me, seemingly in order to look me straight in the eyes. "What are you doing here, John?" He turned his head to look at Sherlock who was hovering again. "You arranged to meet here?"

Sherlock shook his head and stared at his shoes, if he couldn't explain I doubted I could.

"Guys!" He sounded suddenly annoyed, "Don't you think I've spent enough time trying to figure you two out? I mean one more than the other sure," He stopped as he said this and grinned at me, a grin that faltered when I didn't return it. "Now you called me here," I went to argue this statement but he cut across me, "One, both of you, whatever, I can tell that 'it' actually is important... but you need to tell me what 'it' is!"

I sighed and knew he was right, I was also becoming more certain that this was really happening to me, not that that made it any easier to deal with. "Ask him!" I nodded towards Sherlock, who froze mid-hop. Lestrade looked back at me, a little shocked at the venom in my eyes as I looked at my best friend. I held his gaze for about a minute before dropping my face back into my knees. I heard his shoes scrape the gravel, he must've turned to face Sherlock. "So?" I heard him ask.

Sherlock's reply when it came sounded quieter than I'd expected, and I heard a hesitance to his voice that was unfamiliar. It reminded me of his admission during the case of the Hound.

"He came out here to... Well he was going to hurt himself, and I had to stop him."

Lestrade seemed to turn back to me, his voice sounding clearer again, "John...?" I lifted my head to see why he had stopped speaking, as it turned out its because he was peering over the edge. My escape, now blocked by two of the people I was closest to in the world.

He seemed to shiver slightly as he looked down and then he turned his attention back to me. "John? Were you going to jump?"

I realised that I wasn't really in a position where I could lie, but now I was facing the two of them I felt ashamed of the decision that I had been so sure of only a short while ago. I simply nodded and allowed gravity to own me again. I felt someone sit down and lift my head onto their lap, from the faint scent I realised it was Sherlock.

"I am sorry, John, but I needed you to believe I was gone. To keep you safe," His hand was resting on my head, I felt it's warmth spread to my skin.

"John?" Lestrade was still trying to engage me in conversation, you have to give it to the guy for his persistence. I stared up into his eyes, seeing him as a blurred vision, it took me a moment to realise this was due to my eyes being full of tears.

Lestrade seemed to realise that I had no words, that my world had crumbled when Sherlock had fallen and now it had been tossed upside-down yet again. "John. Let me take you back to the city. Let's get you some help, eh?"

There was silence for a minute while he and Sherlock seemed to wait for me to respond. For a while I couldn't think what to say, I eventually settled for, "Do I have a choice in the matter, Detective Inspector?" The sarcasm in my voice could have cut steel,. I hated to hear it, but the defences had to go back up, or I would simply curl up here and cease to be.

Lestrade vanished from sight and I heard his voice from behind me say, "Okay, up you get." Between them they heaved me to my feet and I swayed slightly, as if my body was reluctant to move from this place. As they guided me toward Lestrade's car, as despite my reluctance my feet were taking the steps, I looked back at the drop that wouldn't now come to be. Sherlock must have noticed me turning as he addressed me as I turned back round, "Come now John. There is no need for you to jump now you know that I am not in fact dead."

Lestrade gasped a little at his words and perhaps this is why he realised a second too late just how I was going to react. I wrenched my arm away from Lestrade and for the second time on the little patch of road I punched my best friend hard in the face. Harder than I had realise too as the momentum took us both to the ground. I grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, noticing as I did the stunned look on his face, "Do you really think it's that simple?" I landed one more blow to those absurdly angular cheekbones before Lestrade recovered enough to grab hold of my arms.

I felt rather than heard his voice, right behind my head, "John, John, stop! Come on now, I'm not saying he didn't deserve that, but don't make me 'cuff you."

I relaxed a little, just enough to make Lestrade realise I was listening to him. He released my arms and I stood up and strode away from Sherlock as fast as I could manage.

I saw Lestrade offer him a hand back to his feet and heard the consulting detective ask, in what he thought was an undertone, "What did I say?"