5 Seconds Of Summer Preferences

The Reichenbach Fall. Michael Clifford.

The Reichenbach Fall.
Michael Clifford.
Blurb: Don't be scared. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination.
Part One.

Spoilers for Sherlock season one, episode three and beyond.

Luke Watson sits on the uncomfortable two-seater as the rain drips down the dirty window and thunder rumbles off in the distance. He looks tired, the bags under his eye more prominent than ever, and his face is full of pain.

"Why today of all days?" Ella, his therapist, asks, sipping some tea across from him.

Luke frowns at the floor, disappointed in the world.

"D'you want to hear me say it?" He replies, still staring at the grey carpet.

"Eighteen months since our last appointment."

"D'you read the papers?" Luke's voice had gotten more irritated, the anger he felt inside bubbling out of his mouth.

"Sometimes."

"Mmm, and you watch telly? You know why I'm here." The last few word come out as a groan, not quite like he's in physical pain (he always feels like that nowadays) but not like a six year old throwing a tantrum.

"I'm here because. . ." His voice breaks, the rage dissipating into sadness. He looks up at the modestly-dressed woman in front of him, desperately try to push the tears back. She leans forward sympathetically, but Luke doesn't want her pity.

"What happened, Luke?" Ella asks, wanting to get him to admit it himself.

Luke closes his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the storm inside of him, and then looks up again, his eyes void of everything but loss. He clears his throat and sucks in a breath as much as his constricting lungs will allow.

"Mich . . ." He clears his throat once more, worried he won't be able to get it out without the tears coming first.

"You need to get it out." She says to him gently, a hand resting on his clenched fist.

"My best friend . . . Michael Holmes . . ." He sniffs, all of the emotions trying to overwhelm him.

". . .is dead."

Luke Watson finally cracks, and the dam he had tried so badly to contain collapsed and washed over Luke and everything he knew. All that was left was his shivering body huddled into a ball as the water soaked his clothes and drenched his hair, not caring if the flood would drown him.

=+=+=

Three Months Earlier

=+=+=

At the Tower of London, tourists pass through a metal detector on their way to see the famous Crown Jewels. Security guard the metal detectors, taking items and returning them once the all-clear is given.

"Excuse me, sir?" A security says to a young man as he lightly holds onto his jacket-covered arm, the detector going off above him.

The man steps back, the gum in his mouth obnoxiously loud as he chews.

"Any metal objects - keys, mobile phones?" The guard asks, gesturing slightly to the sign on his left.

Smiling apologetically, Ashton takes his phone out of the pocket of his blue jeans and places it in the provided tray. He once again steps through the empty door and it stays silent this time. The security guard slides the tray over and Ashton takes his phone back.