The Fall

Johns Desicion

Trigger warning: strong suicidal mentions. Stay safe my lovely peoples

*fast forward a year and a half*

Mrs Hudson was out. Heaven knows where. Mary was shopping. This was the perfect time to do it. John gently opened Sherlock's old wooden drawer and tenderly pulled out the detectives favorite scarf.

John had decided on a whim to spend the weekend at the old flat for memory's sake. He wanted to smell the musky scent one more time. He wanted to look around the small room and imagine all the things that happened there and all the things that could've happened. There was so much that was unfinished.

He snapped back from his thoughts and clenched the worn fabric in his shaking hands before getting to his feet and checking the time. Knowing Mrs Hudson, she wouldn't be back for another hour or so. He still had time.

Not giving himself a chance to rethink anything he numbly tied the blue and black scarf on a hook that Sherlock had installed for holding his random materials. John remembered when Sherlock had installed the hook. He had barged into the flat grumbling to himself about "Stupid civilizations" and opened a small plastic bag from some shop, angrily drilling the hook into the ceiling. Mrs Hudson was pissed when she got home. John wasn't sure why but she took great pride in her ceiling. She and Sherlock had gotten into quite a debate on why Sherlock shouldn't or should be allowed to drive nails into the wall and ceiling. Eventually Mrs Hudson had thrown her hands in the air saying something about Sherlock's stubbornness while Sherlock sat smugly on the couch talking to John about how well he'd handled the situation. John sighed. So much drama over a hole in the ceiling. He missed those times. The world was simpler place back then.

He looped the fabric ensuring it wouldn't stretch under his weight and took a deep breath. There was no chance of survival. And he wanted none.

Somewhat hesitantly, he dragged a chair under the scarf and climbed on it. He looped the scarf around his neck and adjusted his head slightly. He was a doctor. He knew how this worked.

Sudden memories of the good times he'd had with Sherlock flooded his tired mind, only pushing him closer to the edge of the chair. He shut his eyes and prepared to step off when there was a ring in his pocket.

Reluctantly, he lifted the phone to his ear.

"How fitting"

Moriarty's voice rang in his ears as he lowered his head, exhausted. Jim continued;

"You deciding to jump. After all, that's what Sherlock did"
John squeezed the phone as he blurted his response,

"Shut up! Just shut up, okay? Why can't you just leave me alone for once? Let me do this in peace."

John's voice lowered to a whisper as tears began falling down his worn face.

"Ooo, Johnny boy's ready to jump! He's reached his breaking point! Just like Sheerrrloock did!" Moriarty responded, dragging out the r sound in the detectives name.

"You don't even have the right to say his name."

John pressed the end button on the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. He'd had enough. One foot came off the chair. John closed his eyes once again. Preparing.

He was fully ready for the suffering to end.

ooOooOOOooOo cliffhanger!! Hopefully this was long enough. It's not one of my best chapters but oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ have a great night/day! ♥️♥️