Reichenbach Tradgedy

The Reichenbach Disaster

I was standing on the edge, the edge of life and death. Moriarty lay behind me; a bullet through his brain. My mind devised ways of my survival, but none of them required falling. I looked down and saw John's cab pulling closer. My shaking fingers drew my phone from my pocket. His number flew across the screen.

The last time I will see those numbers.

The phone rang and I saw John answer it as he got out of the cab, paying the cabbie.

Never will I ride a cab with John again.

My hands shook as I saw him walk towards the entrance. Tears were forming in my eyes.

"Sherlock, you okay?" John asked.

He said my name. This was for him. He needed to live. He was to good for death.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came," I said bluntly.

John doesn't need to see my crushed body. The ambulance station will block the impact.

"No, I'm coming in," he said in his normal manner.

"Just. Do as I ask. Please," the words were choking me, my tears on the verge of pouring out.

He turned and walked back, "Where?" he asked.

The last time I will see him walk.

"Stop there," he was in the correct place. My hand was shaking violently.

"Sherlock?" he asked, now slightly worried.

"Okay, look up, I'm on the rooftop," my emotions all mixed into a grey haze of worry, confusion and depression. It choked my voice.

"Oh God," he stumbled back and almost tripped. He sounded like he was going to say something, but he didn't.

"I-I-I," my head sank down. My mouth couldn't function while the immense emotions filled my chest. I blocked them all out. My eyes watered. "I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this."

"What's going on?" his eyes were locked on to me and mine on him. He stood with one hand falling limp beside him and his other arm, rigid, holding the phone.

My hands went still. My voice returned to it's robotic monotone. I became the sociopath that I was, I tried my hardest to shut out all of my feelings.

For John.

"An apology," my voice was stronger than I imagined it would turn out. "It's all true," I almost choked on the last word. I had to lie to John for his own safety.

"What?" his voice was thick with two emotions. Worry and sadness.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty," my mind swirled.

"Why are you saying this?" John replied. Sherlock could see his unease. He was shifting from foot to foot and his voice almost cracked.

"I'm a fake," the emotion took over and tears started to pour from my eyes. I didn't let it come out in my voice.

"Sherlock-" John started, but I cut him off.

"The newspapers were right all along," my voice heavy with emotion.