Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

Tragic Loss

Warning: Depression, Self-harm, Drug abuse, Major character death.

Everyone always says that the people you lose never really leave you. I've come to think that they are right. Everywhere I look, I see her. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, she's always on my mind. And as much as it hurts, I don't want her to leave. My wife. My lovely wife was brutally murdered by my arch-nemesis, and it was all my fault. I tried to stop him, I truly did. But I failed and now she's gone. Guilt is eating me inside and the will to live is far gone. She would want me to stay strong, she would slap me if she saw me like this. Alone in the cold, dark apartment. I haven't eaten and I haven't gone to bed since the funeral. That was 8 days ago. I smoke again, I use drugs again and have been ignoring everyone's attempts to try to talk to me. John tried to break into the apartment but I managed to keep it locked. It would only be a matter of days before my body would give up due to the lack of food. But that isn't fast enough for me.

I moved my head ever so slightly and saw the blade I had been using the past few days. My wrists were covered in scars and blood, I didn't bother to clean the wounds or cover them up. I didn't even get up from my chair most days. With shaking hands I picked up the blade from the small wooden table and stared at it. I pressed the blade against my skin where there weren't any scars yet. I was about to drag it across when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. "Sherlock. Don't do this, please." (Y/N) begged. I slowly raised my head and looked at the spot where her voice came from. "(Y/N)?" I whispered. She was standing in front of me. The blood and the bullet hole in her head were gone and she had that familiar glint in her eyes that she always had before she died. With all the force I had left in my body, I stood up and tried to walk over to her. But my body was too weak and I fell to the floor. "You can't be here. It's the drugs, I'm hallucinating again." I said, on the verge of tears. "You have to move on, Sherlock. This is not healthy. You will die if you continue living like this. The world needs you, John needs you, Scotland Yard needs you." She stopped talking and I raised my head to see if she was still there. "I love you, Sherlock. I want you to live your life even though I can't live it with you." She said.

"John doesn't need me, the world doesn't need me. I need you and I can't have you. You're dead and you're never coming back." Tears were falling to the floor of the dusty apartment, I just couldn't keep it together anymore. John had Mary. The world was fine before I existed and it will be fine when I go. I stared blankly at the spot where (Y/N) was standing just seconds ago. ''The drugs must've worn off.'' I muttered to myself. I struggled to get up but managed to do so and sat back down in my chair. I didn't know what to do anymore. (Y/N) would be so disappointed in me if I would take my own life because of her. But I just couldn't live without her and I really didn't want to. I closed my eyes and went to my mind palace to visit the room I had dedicated to her.

''Sherlock?'' I heard someone say. I opened my eyes and stared right at the face of my best friend, John Watson. ''Bloody hell mate. You scared me to death.'' He said, looking relieved. I finally noticed that I wasn't at 221B anymore but in a hospital. I tried to get up but John pushed me back onto the bed. I groaned in annoyance and shot John a glare. ''Why did you do it, Sherlock?'' John asked. ''Don't make me say it.'' I whispered, realising that I couldn't speak any louder. ''She wouldn't want this. You need to make her proud and not throw your life away like this.'' A single tear rolled down John's cheek as he spoke and I actually felt a little guilty. ''Sorry.'' I whispered hoarsely. ''You're going to have to stay here for a few days and afterwards you're going to stay at Mycroft's house so he can keep an eye on you.'' John said, smirking slightly when he saw my widened eyes when he mentioned me living with Mycroft. ''It's for the best, Sherlock.'' He decided. I tried to protest but John pressed a button a few times and I started to feel really drowsy. ''Get some rest.'' John said softly. Squeezing my shoulder slightly before leaving the room. I felt my eyes starting to close and I drifted off to sleep.

Three weeks later...

''The famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, committed suicide twelve hours ago. He jumped off of the rooftop of St. Bart's Hospital after recording a message on his phone. Rumours say that he had been depressed ever since the murder of his wife, (Y/N) Holmes. His friends and family asked for privacy. The entire world has experienced a tragic loss today. Sherlock Holmes will be missed dearly.''

The camera stopped recording and the news reporter and her crew packed up their stuff. All the televisions in London were showing the same thing over and over again that day. The newspapers all had the same headlines. London has lost the great consulting detective. 

A/N: Thank you all so so much for more than 3K reads on this book! I can't believe it and I have literally no words. I hope you enjoyed this oneshot despite the sadness of it. I hope you have a lovely day <3. - Just_A_Sherlockian

If you like 5SOS, you should definitely check out @midnightanna 's new fanfiction!