Sorry about the long time between updates ;-;
Okay okay I got you guys' pms and I apologize for the angst I have caused. I also apologize because it's about to get a heck of a lot worse.
John's phone was dropped and clattered on the pavement of the roof. He took a deep breath and then felt nothing but air rushing past him and a pit in his stomach. He was falling, down down down.
"No…" Sherlock whispered. Time seemed to slow down as he watched his best friend fall and then land on the ground. He stood still in shock for a few moments, then started to run towards John's body. Already, dozens of people were crowding around him, obscuring John from Sherlock's view.
BAM
Sherlock was slammed into the ground by a young man riding a bike, who quickly rode off. Sherlock got up and ran over to the growing crowd.
"Let me-please let me through he's my friend…" Sherlock pushed his way through the crowd. There, on the ground, was John. His strawberry blonde hair was soaked in the blood that was pooled on the pavement.
"Oh God no, please no…"
Sherlock didn't remember much of what happened after that, medics came and took John away in a stretcher.
It's all a bad dream, Sherlock kept telling himself. Just another one of your horrible dreams. You'll wake up, you always do. But it was real. It was all so horribly real.
****
A week after the fall
****
Knock knock knock. "Sherlock? Are you in there? You need to come out sometime." Mrs. Hudson's voice floated through the locked door to Sherlock's flat. After a few moments, she heard shuffling footsteps, a lock turning and then the door opened for the first time in six days.
"Oh Sherlock…you look horrible!" Mrs. Hudson said quietly.
Sherlock was wearing a dark blue jacket and jeans that he had obviously slept in for multiple nights. He was already noticeably skinnier, and there was a faint tinge of alcohol to his breath. His eyes were red, puffy and lifeless, his hair was a mess and there was uneven stubble on his face.
"Sherlock you need to eat." Mrs. Hudson said, her voice cracking a bit. "I can't see you like this."
"Well then what do you want to see me as?" Sherlock's voice was very hoarse, as if he hadn't uttered a thing the whole time he had been in his flat.
"Anything but this. Mrs. Hudson took Sherlock's cold hand. "Come on down I'll get you some tea to soothe your throat."
"I don't want to soothe anything." Sherlock said harshly. He slammed the door shut.
"Sherlock you always used to come to me for anything. Your dreams, when somebody died, when Moriarty-"
"Yes well things aren't exactly the same now are they?"