Tears of an Angel - Sherlock

Chapter 20 - His Fall

Freya's POV

I couldn't take it anymore, he had been gone for too long. Him and John. I needed to find them.

I grabbed my coat from the lounge and ran out the door, running past Mrs Hudson and the builder.

"Won't be long" I called to her.

"All right dear, stay safe" She replied.

I ran out onto the street and hailed a cab. To my luck the first one pulled over straight away. I opened the door to the back seat and climbed in.

"Where to?" asked the cab driver.

"St Bart's Hospital" I replied quickly "And hurry" The cabbie stepped on it and the cab lurched forward. My fingers tapped upon my knee and I looked out the window, trying to find Bart's.

Soon the recognisable building came into view.

"Here!" I replied, paying the cabbie and getting out of the car and running to the door.

I checked every room they would normally be in, but no sign of anyone. Then an idea sprung to mind. 'The roof top' I thought. I ran to the escalators and hopped in pressing the button to the highest floor and getting out of the escalator once I arrived, climbing one set of stair cases until I reached the door to the rooftop. Pausing before opening it slowly, the light blinding me slightly.

And then I saw him on the edge. I watched him throw his phone to the ground and then...

He jumped.

"SHERLOCK!!!" I cried. I tried to run to the edge but my knees gave way beneath me and I fell hard to the ground. My head pounded from hitting the concrete surface, my vision blurry and a million questions running through my head. 'Why?'

As my vision began to adjust a saw a body lying not far from me. I soon recoginsed it to be Moriarty, he wasn't moving. Soon the pool of blood around his head answered why.

He was dead.

But Sherlock?

Sherlock?

No.

I started to cry, more than I ever have in my entire life. He was gone. "No, no, no... Oh god please no... no" I sobbed loudly. I tried to get up but as soon as I got to my feet I fell, again. I heard people come up to the rooftop. But I cared not, I contiuned to bathe in my pool of tears.

"There's Moriarty" I heard a familiar voice order to the others. A pair of footsteps came towards me. But I didn't look up, I couldn't move.

"Freya!" I felt myself being pulled up by a pair of strong arms, it was Lestrade. "Freya, listen to me... It's okay, you're going to be okay" I could tell he was crying to. I buried my head into his chest.

"No, it's not okay" I replied. "IT'S NOT!" I screamed through my tears.

"I know..." Lestrade replied. Contiueing to hug me tightly. He rocked me back in forth, but it wasn't enough.

"Where's John?" I asked "Where's my Dad?"

"He's okay Freya, he's safe..."

"But where is he?!" he sighed.

"With Sherlock..." he explained. I burst out in a fit of tears. "He saw it happen".

"Dad..." I murmered.

"Do you want to see him?" he asked. I nodded into his chest and he stood up still holding me gently. "Get that git out of here!" he ordered harshly to his men and I saw them carry Moriarty away in a body bag.

He helped me down the stairs and through the hallways and down the escalators of Barts. Until we reached the bottom. Turning the corner, I saw a huge mass of people crowded around, gasping and crying. I knew who it was, the thing I dreaded to see and now I was walking towards it, my head owered and clinging to Lestrade.

"Clear out the lot of ya!" Lestrade ordered to the public. They cleared off in a huff leaving a medical team and John. Poor John.

He was on his knees beside Sherlock's body. Blood painted the pavement, Sherlock's eyes opened cold and dead, not seeing anymore. Just metres away, Lestrade called to John.

"John..." he said gently. My Dad looked up and when he saw me, a new set of tears repleced the old ones in my eyes.

"Freya!" he cried, getting up and hugging me tightly, Lestrade let go of me and gave us some space. "Thank goodness you're okay". My Dad whispered. I clung onto him, crying loudly.

"Dad..." I replied. We parted for a moment to watch as they loaded Sherlock onto the stretcher bed. I walked over to him and held his hand.

"Freya..." John warned sadly.

"It's okay" I replied, holding onto my father's hand. I moved my hand to where his pulse wold be on his wrist, but nothing, tears spilled down my face. But just before I moved my hand away, I swear I felt and slight beat under my fingertips. I went to put my hand back, but the nurses shooed me away and apologised. Taking Sherlock into the hospital. The hope faded into the size of a grain of sand in my heart, still there but only a little.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and John walked up behind me, he gave the faintest of smiles to me, the "It's going to be okay" smile. But I knew it wasn't.