Chapter13
John burst into Sherlock's room only to find a dented door, speckled with fresh blood. The room was completely torn apart. Breathing hard John ran back into the hallway. He should have known Sherlock would have found a way to escape. He was the most brilliant man in the world after all. John's eyes darted to room to room, but he figured he knew exactly where the detective was hidden. The last time Sherlock had been thought of as a fake John found him…well, he found Sherlock someplace where he had hoped he would never find him again.
After finally climbing the last of the steps John threw himself into the door, bursting it open with all his strength. His heart caught in his throat as his eyes fell on his best friend on the edge of the roof. His hands were fists at his sides, dripping in blood from pounding so hard on the door John had slammed in his face. They were shaking as well and John had to bight his lip to keep from falling back into a flashback of that night up on St. Bart's.
"SHERLOCK!" John screamed, taking a few short steps forward. He didn't want to frighten his friend, not when he's on the edge of a building. Sherlock's head turned slightly; a pained expression on his face, blue eyes shimmering in the light of the moon.
"I'm sorry, John," he whispered in the smallest voice John has ever heard him use.
"Sherlock…please –"
"This is the only way, John. I can't spend another day here, especially now that I've lost everything," Sherlock stated, his voice was shaking as he stood there on the edge. John could now see the tears fall from his friends face onto the tiles of the roof.
"Sherlock, I do-"
"Goodbye, John." John's face paled. No, not again!
I'm sorry…did I just throw your favorite character off a roof? MWAHAHAHAHAHA!