Four
Sherlock
I make sure to stay out of view while I watch John talk to my headstone. Little does he know, sitting below him in the damp, fresh dirt, is an empty coffin. I try not to think that someday I will fill that coffin. I wonder who would go to my funeral then, when I'm old and have lied to them more times than I can count.
I didn't want a funeral, and I would probably want one less when I'm old. I never cared much for scenes, unless they were crime scenes.
Mrs. Hudson must have arranged the funeral. There were far too many flowers for my taste, and I know John wouldn't have done that.
He's angry, and I don't blame him.
I can hear everything he says, just like I could when I was laying on the concrete. I could hear his whole world falling apart.
John's voice breaks at the end when he says, "Don't . . . be. . . dead." And I'm honestly surprised he's made so much progress. I know he's been seeing his therapist—she even made him say it out loud—but most people can't. Say it out loud that is.
It takes everything in me not to step forward. But I keep my face blank and hide underneath the low branches of a tree. John might have seen me if he wasn't so caught up in his whole speech.
When he's finishes I stand and admire my headstone. That's one thing Mrs.Hudson got right—it's one that I would have chosen.
She came with him today, and I heard her talking about how they're going to come back every week. I remind myself to come back, too. Just in case.
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Suicide of Fake Genius - A Johnlock FanFiction
Fanfic"Goodbye, John." "No," he cries. "Don't." I nod, then throw the phone on the roof behind me. John takes the phone away from his ear and screams, "Sherlock!" I spread my arms out and fall forward off the building, hoping that something will catch m...
