Case: 221b Baker St

Chapter Two

That Night

Thunder crashed and lightning dashed in the sky as the rain pelted down, slapping against windows, walls, and walkways.

He bolted upright in his bed. Sherlock could have sworn he had heard someone yelling his name.

"WILLAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES!"

That was his whole name, he was only ever called by his whole name when he did something bad and was being told off or lectured. But who yelled it?
...John!

"SHERLOCK!"

He sounded in destress! What was wrong? What could be happening to John? Why did that sound like he was crying?

"SHERLOCK, SHERLOCK, SHERLOCK!!!"

He needed to get to him! He had already wasted to much time running the possible scenarios thought his head. He leaped out of his warm bed onto the freezing cold hardwood floor and ran at the speed of light up the stairs to John's room. The burst though the closed door not caring about anything but his Blogger.

"SSHHEERRLLOOCCKK!!!!!!"
John lay in his bed thrashing in the blankets, his hands gripping his sheets so tight that his knuckles were white, his breathing was out of control, tears running down his cheeks. One word shot into his mind 'nightmare', John was having another one of his nightmares. This was one of the worst times.

Without thinking Sherlock leaped onto John's bed and grabbed his shoulders, he instantly regretted this because he recalled the reason why John was here and not severing the country in Afghanistan, it was because of his shoulder, he had been shot. The bullet had shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. It has never healed properly and was always giving John strife.

John flinched and bolted up right whimpering and crying.

~~~

"This...this is my note" the man on the end of the line breathed. John could tell he was holding back a sob, probably thinking that if he stayed strong it would help John somehow.

"Wha...what do you mean Sherlock?" He began to shake, struggling to hold his phone.

"You know what I mean John. Your not as dumb as the rest of them, that is one of the may reasons why I liked having you solve cases with me. At my side. A shoulder to lean on. There. Always there. We ran from the hands of death many times. But now my dear Watson, ...now the time to run is over, it's time for me to stop so you can complete this race, time to face it head on ...one last time, ...without you .....without you by m-my s-side, 
s-s-s-saf-fe." Sherlock's voice started to break.

"Sherlock your scaring me!
.......Sherlock?! .......SHERLOCK!
NO, why are you saying this"
his heart rate began to increase, he knew what Sherlock was saying but didn't want to accept it. How could he?

"John don't make this harder than it already is..." there was a sigh from the other end of the line " ...for me, please don't make it harder for me."

"WILLAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES I ORDER YOU TO GET DOWN NOW!!" He yelled desperately.

"That's what I'm going to do John, for you, a-always for you." The detective said this so calmly it made John feel ill. His voice was like the uneasy calm before the storm.

"Goodbye John" the man on the ledge whispered into the phone.

The line went dead. John looked up from his phone he had now dropped, his eyes filled with water, hands trembling, heart rate sky rocketing. He saw a figure on the roof of a building lean forward and fall.
John ran. If only he could catch him.