We All Fall Down

The End of a Chapter

Sherlock crept behind a tree near them.  John and Mrs. Hudson spoke quietly, but he heard as Mrs. Hudson grew angry and raised her voice.  Sherlock, though seemingly immune to feelings, knew she wasn’t really mad at him and forgave her.  She was upset.  It touched him in a way he had never even thought possible.  He wasn’t about to cry, but he felt a pang of guilt.  Quickly, he pushed it away.  Mrs. Hudson cared about him, and he never noticed it.  Those he cared about truly cared about him as well.  Refocusing his attention, he realized John was now alone.

Sherlock ran closer, ducking behind a tree quite near the gravestone.  He could hear everything clearly despite the soft tone of John’s voice. 

“You told me once that you weren’t a hero.  There were times I didn’t even think you were human, but let me tell you this.  You were the best man… The most human… Human being that I have ever known.  And no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie.” 

Sherlock swallowed down a lump that had somehow been forming in his throat, listening as John continued. 

“I was so alone and I owe you so much.”

John reached out and touched the cold, smooth surface as he spoke.  It wasn’t Sherlock, nor was it the closest thing to Sherlock that he had.  It was just there.  It was all John had for the moment, and he longed deeply for physical contact.  He longed for Sherlock.  Deducting all of this, Sherlock felt a single tear make its way down his face.  He wiped it away instantly, John’s broken voice still speaking through him, painfully quiet but deafening all the same.

“Please, there’s just one more thing.  One more miracle, Sherlock, for me.”

John paused, trying to collect himself.

“Don’t be… Dead….” 

He struggled over the last word and Sherlock bit his lip as he fought back a sob.

“Would you do that?  Just for me.  Just stop it.”

Sherlock flitted his eyes away from John, not willing to face the emotions John made him feel.

“Stop this….”

John inhaled deeply, turning from Sherlock’s grave.  His best friend’s grave.  Sherlock watched as he walked away, as he left Sherlock behind.  He almost ran out to him.  He almost shouted “I’m okay, John!  I’m here!”  But he didn’t.  He watched his best friend limp away, taking note that the psychosomatic limp had returned.  And it was because of him.  This heightened the desperate want, almost a need, to run to John.

He wanted to comfort him, to apologize, to explain to him all of the reasons why, including the one he wouldn’t even admit to himself: that he couldn’t continue hiding from the feelings he had for John.

“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock whispered.  Another tear made its way down his face, which he also brushed away almost angrily.  He watched John until he was completely out of sight, and then he, too, turned his back and walked away.

A/N: I think I'll be switching back and forth between John and Sherlock's points of view every chapter.... Maybe.  I definitely want to focus more on John, but it's an idea.