Sherlock Oneshots

Two//End//Johnlock

trigger warning: suicide and depression. please don't read if you get triggered easily

Sherlock Holmes was depressed.
He was upset that he could not solve this latest case.
He was upset that Mycroft hated him.
He was upset that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't good enough for John Watson.

Ever since that first day, Sherlock had loved John. He was in denial to himself at first; how could the great Sherlock Holmes ever feel love? Once he had got over that, he was undeniably in love. Moriarty had put a hole in the plan he had of proposing, and when he had been forced to fake his death, he'd spent two years wondering what could have happened. Slowly, the 'what ifs' and 'could haves' ate away at his brain, and he returned. That night at the restaurant, he made his way through the doors, a certain lump in his pocket that was shaped like a certain ring box for a certain. He was all ready to encounter John with another feeble relationship that he would willingly leave for the man who had been there, who had lived with him for over four years, who had willingly included him in his complicated life.
When he saw a similar ring box on the table to the one in his pocket, it was like John had personally smashed up Sherlock's body with a hammer. It hurt. A lot.

Ever since then, he's never been the same. John's wedding was the worst. He had to sit there, putting on a fake smile as the man he loved walked down the aisle...with someone else. He had to pretend he was happy, when all he wanted to do was go and sit in the bathroom by himself and cry. One thing he was thankful for, was his long sleeved suit. It covered up his arms, which had traces of rapidly increasing scars. Every time, he told himself that if John cared, if John loved him then he would notice. Every time, John never noticed, and so Sherlock's mental state began deteriorating until both arms were covered, and he threw out all of his short sleeved shirts. He began to think that the cabbie was right.
Who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes?
This, of course, brought back memories of their first case together, where John had done everything in his power to save Sherlock's life. And then again and again over various other cases.
Well, you know what they say.
There's only so many times you can get lucky.

The first step, was to text the various people who had shown affection or care for him.

To:John
"It's not fake this time. Goodbye, John.
-SH"
These would be the last words John would ever hear from 'SH'
To: Mycroft
"I would apologise, but I'm not sorry. Remember, caring is not an advantage.
-SH"
To: Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Molly.
"Goodbye
-SH"

The second step, was to check for any boats that were passing under the bridge. If he landed on a boat, it would probably be a big mess to clear up, or there would be a chance of survival, and that couldn't be allowed to happen.

The final stage was to complete the task. To end it all.

He climbed over the metal barrier, and looked into the murky depths below. He could already hear the confused shouts behind him, and so he jumped.

The stones weighed him down, and he made no effort to swim upwards, towards the light. It was strangely calm underwater, with the stones pulling him into the depths. He made no attempt to hold his breath, instead he willingly opened his mouth, and let the water flow in. He choked, his body automatically trying to reject the water rushing down his throat and into his lungs. The last thought that appeared in his mind was that of the one person who he had loved, who he had ever felt affection for.
John.
Hamish.
Watson.

A/N: oh hey. it me. the author. I don't want to be one of those cliched people that says 'vote! comment! follow!!1!!2!3728828£:)2&/@" but unfortunately that's kinda what I want ... so yeah. I hope you enjoyed this oneshot :)))))

p.s: go and follow @injohnlockweship on instagram :D