Disclaimer| I do not own any of the characters, all rights go to BBC and their fabulous writers!
A/N| Here we go. Prepare yourself guys. I was sobbing while I was writing this.
Sorry if you cry as well.
But it means I did a good job.
Here it is, the final chapter.
Dedicated to all you wonderful people.
Everything from the moment John's crippled body hits the wooden planks to the start of Pria's laugh I have successfully managed to abandon all portions of humanity I had left. Who cares now, that I have failed? John will die; she broke more muscle and nerve endings than bone. He's already beginning to slip away. Why should I care about my human side anymore? They took my heart from me, they took John.
I never realized I can move this fast.
Var is between my hands in a second and I'm slamming him down, his head hits the wood bellow us over and over and over again until I hear his skull crack and his hair tear out with the splintering planks. He's clawing at me, utterly vicious, his nails catching and tearing my lips, my eyes, my ears, my hair-absolutely everything his grip can find purchase on.
I don't feel it.
I know it's bad because my whole face feels completely wet with my pouring blood but I don't care. Var's screaming, high desperate cries that bounce off the reflective surface of the water below us. To my surprise Pria's not moving. She's standing still, watching with a calm final look in her eyes.
To hell with her. Two more bashes of Var's head and the back pops like a balloon, his blood and grey dyed brain matter spilling like ground meat over the boards and falling with dulled plops into the water below. I twist and his head rolls away from me, rolls to Pria and bumps like a lost dog against the tips of her red-heeled shoes. She's just staring down at Var's lifeless mangaled features and I break off a makeshift stake from bellow me and ram it into Var's heart.
I am not taking any more chances. I can hear John though, he's still struggling still writhing, and in a second I call for an ambulance. I have to try and save him at least. I kick Var's body off the dock like it's a stone and, like a stone; it falls and sinks wasted into the dark churning waters. Now it's just Pria and I and the glowing sky, and I find myself before her in an instant. She's staring at me with a neglected gaze, a withered smirk.
"Damn you." She whispers, because the reality sinks in and she can't win. She never could.
" I'll meet you in hell." And her head rolls down, her hair following it like a tail, until if tumbles over the pier and joins Var in the waters. Her body's next and I think I break her leg swinging her away. I feel dizzy, utterly dizzy and I lick the blood off my hands to clear my mind. Better. The monster's dormant now.
"Sherlock." John's voice snaps me back and I am kneeling beside him before he can finish his thought. Gently I gather him in my arms, pull him close to my chest, and hold him as close as I physically can.
I don't want to let him go.
I am not ready for solitude again. I am not ready to loose my heart.
"It'll be alright, John." I whisper, my voice cracking and turning me weak. Which I suppose, is the truth. I am hiding nothing now. I am crying. John Watson really is incredible, to make me cry twice without shame. He smiles weakly up at me, a faint brush of pale cracking lips before sighing painfully through his nose.
"I'm a doctor, Sherlock, I know I won't make it." I give a strangled sob and lean myself down; bow my body so that my cold blood soaked forehead is pressed tight against his hot clammy one.
"John Watson, if you do something as utterly boring as die on me tonight, I-"
He interrupts me with a kiss.
A sweet, waning, chaste kiss, and I can't help the trembling of my lips, the tight bruising hold of my grip. Don't die, I think, don't die, don't die, don't die, don't die-
"Don't you know I can't live without you?" I choke because it's true. I can't. I really truly can't. The sky is lightening, a small dusting of pink. The shadows start to come out.
And I know in that instant that I am not leaving.
John seems to realize this too because his smile fades and he looks up at me with pleading eyes. He gives a slight shake of his head, a weak gesture of 'no'. I smile and kiss his forehead, softly, just once, because I always wanted to.
"I was so alone," I hear myself saying, I'm talking because John no longer can, "And I owe you so much." I have to prepare myself for my next words, because just thinking them kills me, "I love you, John Watson." John's expression fades to one of pure contentment and he gives a slight nod, a grateful understanding. He opens his mouth to say something but freezes.
He goes limp in my hold.
At first I feel nothing as I gaze into his abandoned blue eyes, feel the weightlessness of his body, the slack parting of his blood trickled lips. He is so broken but he looks so peaceful. I assume that's something.
So, without feeling much of anything, I ghost my fingers over his eyes and slip his eyelids shut.
Now he's sleeping. He's just sleeping, and we will wake up tomorrow in each other's arms, safe and sound in our flat of 221b Baker Street. He will roll over and kiss me, wake me, and I will tell him about my dreams. I will tell him about their meanings.
I will be with him again.
The tears are violent and they fall without remorse, and the blow to my heart when I realize that he won't wake up beside me tomorrow is so great that I scream. I scream as loud as I can and until my throat burns raw.
Because my John is gone.
I can hear the sirens, muffled in the distance and I know they're too late. Two minutes too late. And I hate everything. I crush John to me, bury my face in his hair, in his neck, kiss every part of him that I can reach.
I keep saying his name.
Over and over again, like it's my prayer, my savior, because it is. When the sun touches my skin I am calm. I am holding John and I am calm. I will see him again. I will see him smile. The sun, surprisingly, doesn't hurt me.
It tickles, and I watch as I start to fade away like rose petals. I am totally calm. I close my eyes and I see John. He looks perfect, free of blood, free of wounds. He's holding his hand out to me and I take it without hesitation.
John's my home.
John's my heart.
And as I fade away against the sun I say his name, just because I can.
Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! I have had a blast writing this story and although you guys will probably hate the ending with all your hearts ( I am truly sorry) it had to be done. It was set up from the very beginning so…there we go.
End of "Nightlock".
Or is it?