The Final Goodbye

Chapter 2

"I'm a fake." Sherlock says from the rooftop of the hospital, the slight breeze flowing through him like a ghost.

"Sherlock-" I say on the phone.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly." He breaths in I think he is crying, "In fact tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purpose." His voice was shaken and broken.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. T-the first time we met- the first time we met- you knew all about my sister right?" I say to him I could see his face clearly, he was crying, Sherlock, of all people was crying.

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could." I say to him, He let out a slight laugh followed by a sniffle.

"I researched you." He says, "Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick, it's just a magic trick."

"No, alright, stop it now." He is not a fake, he is real a real genius, he is lying. I start walking into the hospital.

"No stay exactly where you are; don't move." I see his hand move out and I go back.

"Alright."

"Keep your eyes on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?"

"This phone call, it... it's my note, isn't that what people do, don't they?" there was a slight pause. "Leave a note?"

"Leave a note, when?" I say not taking my eyes off of him.

"Goodbye John."

"No." I say through the phone.

I see him spread his arms and fall. "Sherlock!" I yell, watching him fall to his death, I hear hit the pavement. The sound of a hundred bones breaking echo through my ears. I start to run to him; but, the street became longer and Sherlock became further away. Then a person riding a bike hits me and I fall to the ground. except I keep falling.

~~~~

I wake up in a pool of sweat, I could feel it drip down my face and forming on my head. I move and sit on the edge of Sherlock's bed. I run my fingers through my damp blond hair. "Is this really what it's going to be like?" I look at the time, 2:43 am. "I need to go back to sleep, I can't be having these dreams."

I lay back down in Sherlock's bed. "Maybe, it's because I'm in his bed?" I grab my blanket and move to my own bed I climb in and after a while I drift to sleep.

~~~~

A few days went by and the dreams did not stop. My therapist says it's my reoccurring PTSD. The war, caused it; Sherlock gave me another reason to have it. I get my morning cup of tea and head down to see Mrs. Hudson. She was sitting there at the table looking out the window, a tear rolling down her face tracing every wrinkle on her cheek.

I clear my throat to let her know I was in hear. "Oh sorry John," She said looking at me. "I didn't see you there." Mrs. Hudson wipes her eyes and puts a weak smile on her face.

"Oh it's fine," Sitting across from her I place my hand on hers. "You miss him, don't you?"

She nods her head, "I miss his big old raggedy head of his." Mrs. Hudson gives of a slight chuckle at a memory of him I'll never know. I give a faint smile back to her.

"Maybe you should go and see him, by yourself. You can say things that are between you and him," I look her in the eyes. "Just go and visit him."

"I would love to, maybe when I go shopping. You need to go and visit him, John. I hear you at night, screaming letting out wails, it's not normal for anyone to do that. It must be about the jump."

I nod my head agreeing with her. "Alright I will go and see him," reinsuring her, I give her a hug and leave her kitchen.

I grab my jacket and open the door, letting a cold autumn breeze come into the flat. It was becoming closer to winter and the days were getting colder. Once I exit the flat it was the full autumn chill. Pulling my jacket tighter I look for a cab, none in sight. I wait a bit longer freezing my ass off.

Finally an empty cab came down the street. When I get in the cab the man said, "where to?" I tell him the address. The car ride was silent, with light music playing.

I remember when Sherlock stole the ash tray for me. I loved how he did those things to impress me. Tears forming in my eyes quickly I wipe them away so the cabby man wouldn't worry, nor see them. We got there and I just had enough to pay the cabby, looks like I will be walking home. I had some spare change in my pocket, just enough to buy him a yellow rose. I walk in the florist shop an aroma of different flowers swarmed around me. Buying a single yellow rose, with nothing to spare.

Walking to the cemetery it started to drizzle, yet again making it even colder. God why did I pick today to go? Why not tomorrow or a nicer day than this? I put the rose in my jacket so the rain and wind wouldn't ruin it. Right when I got to Sherlock's headstone the wind lightened up and the rain stopped. I placed the yellow rose on top of the black headstone.

"Well Sherlock." I start, "I miss you and I saw Mrs. Hudson crying today." I wait a little bit like he is talking back to me. "She really misses you a lot, Sherlock, she really does. She will go on about the memories of you, 'bored' and the experiments." I felt tears forming in my eyes. "I really want you back, Mrs. Hudson needs you back" I take in a breath to calm myself down, but that didn't work, I let out tears, lots of them.

"I miss you so much I just want you hear with me again, solving crimes." I fall to my knees and look at the headstone like it was him. "Money, I can barely pay for food, and I need to get a job, but no hospital or clinic will hire me because I worked with you. Can you believe that, not a single person in this bloody city will hire me?" I become enraged, "Who knows, more than likely I will become homeless and living on the streets. Just because I worked with you. You, my one and only friend through all of this." I felt more and more tears roll down my face. "I need you hear," I start hugging the headstone awkwardly and close my eyes. "Please, please come back Sherlock everyone needs you... I need you." I sit there hugging the headstone feeling the tears drip from my face to the ground. I get up and clean myself off I notice the yellow rose was gone and a little grey envelope laid there.

"Hello?" I yell out, no response. I look at it, it said: To John H. Watson. I pick it up and there was money in it 5,000 pounds. "Who is there?" I yelled out. Looking around me, no one was there. They left me enough to get by for a few months. It can't be, was this Sherlock's doing? "Sherlock?" I call out. As the last time, no answer, "Well thank you, who ever you are." It was getting close to 4 when leave. I look to Sherlock's grave and smile. "Bye Sherlock, I will be back soon."

I ride back to the flat and it was so silent. I pay the man and walk inside, putting my jacket on the hook Mrs. Hudson was coming down stairs, "Oh John you're back, Mycroft is upstairs."

What, why is he here? I move pass her and run up the stairs to where Mycroft was, he was sitting in Sherlock's old arm chair. "Hello John," he says smiling. "Comfy chair." I clench my fist so I wouldn't punch him.

"What do you want Mycroft?" I say gritting my teeth.

"I want to talk, with you, so sit down."

I go over to my chair.