We All Fall Down

That's What People Do, Right?

John sniffed after he downed the rest of the whiskey.  He was feeling dizzy already.  In this case, it didn’t feel like a bad thing.  He pulled out the slip of paper and set it on the ground, placing the bottle on top of it so it couldn’t blow away.  He pulled out his phone and tossed the bag to the side.  He gulped and pressed the number one.  He had always been on speed dial.        

John didn’t know what he was expecting.  Was he expecting Him to rise from the dead in the nick of time to save him?  Was he expecting Him to greet him warmly and talk him out of this dreadful plan?  Whatever it was, he was met with the same disappointment as always.  His voice, dark and smooth like melted chocolate poured over thunder, informed him that He was most likely busy and that the caller should leave a message.  Only now, John couldn’t find the words.  He had an entire speech prepared, but it was all gone, blown away with the wind or drowned by the liquor.

“Sherlock….”  John’s voice broke as he spoke the name for the first time in what felt like a million years.  Tears flooded from his eyes without his consent and he cleared his throat to continue.

“Sherlock, I-“  John took a shaky breath to steady himself.  “All I asked of you was one miracle.  I needed you to come back, but you ignored me.”

John looked to the sky, the clouds dark with the threat of rain.

“You were a hero, Sherlock.  My hero.  You saved me when I didn’t think I needed to be saved.  When I had no one, you stepped forward and brought meaning into my life.  You gave me purpose.  You healed me both physically and mentally.  And now you’re gone and you’ve taken that with you.  But not just what you gave back, you took so much more.  You were my best friend.  Everyone else called you a freak, and now they call you a murderer.  But not me.  No, I saw you and still see you for what you are: amazing, a genius, a hero….  I’ll never see you any different than the way I always have; the way I do now.”

John tried and failed at containing his sobs.  His hand swiped at the unwelcome tears on his face.

“This is my note, Sherlock.  Just like yours.  And now I can see that you really are… Gone.”

He choked on the word “dead” and quickly replaced it with “gone.”

“And I’ll be joining you soon.”

He paused, stepping onto the ledge.

“Goodbye, Sherlock.”              

He ended the call and tossed the phone to the side.

John closed his eyes and breathed in the air tinted with the smell of rain.  He just stood there for a few moments, willing himself to move forward, willing his nerves to quiet.  Suddenly, he heard Sherlock’s voice calling his name.  But it couldn’t be Sherlock’s voice.  Could it?  John was pretty drunk, maybe he was hearing things.  Maybe he had already jumped and this was what came after.

John opened his eyes to see a familiar figure running towards the building.  A wide grin broke out across his face and tears of happiness sprang to his eyes to replace all of the tears he had wept out of misery.  Sherlock sure had waited until the last moment.  John would definitely lay into him for that.  A few choice words had already popped into mind as well as the desire to punch the detective’s stupid cheekbones.  Hell, he would probably cut his hand because of how sharp the damn things were, but he would still feel pleased with the outcome.

“John!”  Came Sherlock’s voice again from below, now sounding relieved and happy.  The shout was followed by laughter that couldn’t be from anyone other than Sherlock.  John laughed as well, then shouted something back.

“Just so you know, I’m putting you through Hell once I get down there!”  John smiled at the laughter it brought forth from the detective, feeling the weight of an entire year being lifted from his weary shoulders.

In his joy- and in his drunken haze, John had not heard Molly coming up behind him.  It surprised him when she called out his name, obviously drenched in the fear that he was about to jump.

“John!”

The shout startled the man and he spun around too quickly, throwing off his balance.  To make up for it, he took a step backwards.  He was met with nothing.  Fear tore through him with the falling sensation.  He was falling through complete emptiness and a single drop of rain met with his face.  Then, everything flashed- whether it was black or white, he had no idea.  Sherlock’s voice reached him just before everything just simply stopped with a smack.