Love You to Death~a Johnlock fanfic

Ending one.

"YOU CANT GET AWAY WITH THIS!" I said, and messily and shakily fired the trigger.
It's all still a blur but I know that the bullet went out of the gun, and I was pushed back by the recoil. I guess out of pure instinct, or maybe he just loves this person more than me, John jumped in front of the woman, lodging the bullet in his stomach.
"Oh my god-" I managed to push out, running over to him as fast as I can, I handed my gun to her.
He was laying on the ground, his chest shuddering and his eyes wandering, he was obviously trying to keep them open.
"John..." I said, trying to put pressure on the wound, praying to whatever is up there that he'll survive this.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I love you so much. I'm so sorry." He said, staring at me with his red, teary eyes.
"No, I'm sorry. Please, I can't live without you. I can't. Don't leave me..." I said through my tears and guilt, my heart somehow smashing into even more pieces than it was already in. My stomach felt like it dropped to my feet.
"love is always painful," he started, being delayed by a pain-inflicted pause.
"But this is just pain. Goodbye, my love." He said as I watched as the life flooded out of his eyes. I laid my head down and cried into his chest for at least ten minutes. I had lost track of time at that point. Everything felt like a fever dream without him. So this is what that invision was? I just wished I told him and maybe this could have all been avoided and we could live happily without any worries at all. But of course we couldn't, I'm Sherlock Holmes. I ruined his life for the last time, this time ending it. I've ended so many lives. Way too many. I had a horrible flashback to the incident where I killed someone last. I looked at the blood on my hands. I'd made me cry even harder. I couldn't live like this anymore. It was time.

I reached up and grabbed the gun out of her hand, careful not to touch where her fingerprints were, so she could be convicted of this crime. She deserves it. She took my only love away. I slowly but readily brought the gun under my chin. I was finally leaving this world I always tried so hard to please, so hard to fit into.. it was all over. I pulled out my phone. I stared at the contact,
"Mycroft Holmes" for a few seconds.
"Goodbye, brother mine. Remember me." I shakily typed, hitting the send button and skipping to the next contact.
"Greg Lestrade"
"Thank you for being there. Goodbye, Greg. I'm sorry." Finally, the last contact.
"Mrs. Hudson" god, I feel so horrible doing this.
"I'm sorry. Thank you for everything. Don't miss us too much." I finally typed, switching off my phone and closing my eyes. I heard two dings from the phone, an even worse and deeper guilt than what I already felt penetrating my soul. I took a last glance at my husband. Staring at the wound in which I put in him.
"I love you." I muttered, turning to address the woman which was still stunned at just staring intently into my eyes.
"Please, take care of Rosie for me. And tell her I'm so sorry, for killing her parents." I waited a couple seconds, just staring into his beautiful blue eyes for the last time. I heard a last ding from my phone. Finally, I pulled the trigger. Next thing I knew I could feel a hole in the back of my bed head. I fell backwards to the ground. It only hurt for about 30 seconds. But then something very weird happened.I could see myself. On the ground, bleeding out, crystal blue eyes looking up at the ceiling with tears still inside of them.
"No, no... not you too." I sobbing voice said from behind me. I turned around quickly, quite startled.
"John?" I said, stepping towards the voice to get a closer look.
"Sherlock, you can't die... What about Greg and Mycroft and Mrs Hudson? They need you." He said, grabbing my hand with his shaky one.
"No...no. I needed them." I said, looking back down at out bodies and the red and blue lights shining through the window.

We stayed silent for about a minute.
"I'm sorry, John." I said, finally breaking the silence.
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, or at least told you. And the worst part is that I made the same mistake twice. I feel so stupid." He admitted, looking down at the ground and trying to avoid eye contact.
"It's okay. I deserved it after all I've done to you. It's okay." I replied, hugging him and letting him bury his head in my chest.
"No Sherlock. You didn't deserve that. Nobody does." He said with a weak sob. I didn't say anything else. I just let him get all the sadness and anger out.

It hurts to be dead. Everyone is so sad. I was listening to the news the other day, trying to see what people would say about me.
"Consulting detective Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes has unfortunately passed away due to suicide on July 24th, 2022 after his husband, John Hamish Watson was murdered by a woman of the name Molly Hooper." The news lady said. I showed a slight smile, successful with my blaming her for the murder.

"Just before his death, Mr. Holmes contacted his older brother, Mycroft Holmes, who will be interviewed in about 5 minutes."
Oh, god. I know he felt like it was duty to protect me. I hope he doesn't feel like a failure. Another five minutes passed and Mycroft appeared on the screen.
"My brother's suicide," he began.
"And his husband's murder,"
"Has been a very traumatic experience for all of the friends and family." He said, holding back tears.
"But uh," he continued, his voice quivering.
"I'm sorry... I can't-" he blurted out, as fast as possible and ran to the left.
"I'm sorry." I muttered, before turning around and walking out of the room. Tears rolled down my cheeks. The funerals were a few days later. Imagine having to go to your younger brother's funeral. Your best friend's funeral. Your son's funeral. It was so horrible to watch. Not to mention having to watch my own husband's funeral as well. But at least I was with him. I stood at my grave.
"Sherlock Holmes
January 9th, 1985-July 24th, 2022
Beloved brother, son, husband, godfather and best friend." was etched in the gravestone. Pink flowers were sat on the bottom. My favorite color. They buried John next to me.
"John Holmes
May 6th, 1981-July 24th, 2022
Beloved brother, husband, and father."
There were yellow and red flowers around the bottom of his grave as well. It made me cry looking at our graves, side by side, forever. When suddenly, I heard something.
"It's time, Sherlock."
"What?" I asked, a familiar female voice called from behind me.
"You have to go. Me and John are waiting. He sent me down to get you." She said, putting her hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shoot him. I hope you're not mad that I married him." I said to the woman, now recognizing the voice.
"It okay, I get the rage if you know what I mean. You didn't mean to. I just wanted him to be happy, and you did that. Thank you." She said, giving me a sincere look.
"No, thank you, Mary. I think I'm ready to go." I said.
"Okay. Come on." She said, grabbing my hand and leading me to a white light.

And that was the very end of Sherlock Holmes. Sad, I know, but not all stories have happy endings. At least I got to be with the person I loved most in this world. I made myself a legacy, something that people would remember me by. I wish my time on Earth could have been longer but hey, I got to be Sherlock Holmes. And, think of it like this. The author of our books, instead of running out of paper and ink, just put down the pen, and never came back.