'Sherlock, why did you jump? Why did you leave me here all alone? Everyone believes that you are a fake. Even Lestrade is starting to think that. I don't want to be alone. I want you back by my side. I want to finally be able to tell you I love you. But you wouldn't even care would you? You're the great Sherlock Holmes. You don't have to care about anyone. Is that why you jumped? Because of your own selfishness? Because you couldn't stand that maybe, just once, you were wrong? God damn it! Do you even know how much it fucking hurt! I saw you up there and I thought I would be sick. I wanted to die right there with you on the pavement Sherlock! They wouldn't even let me see you or go near you! Mycroft couldn't even look at me after everything. I can rightfully say I was taken down by one of his men after knocking him on his ass. You fucking Holmes's. Does anyone in your family care? Or were you a fake like everyone says when you told me you love me? Did you care at all? Because I do. I still do, Sherlock. Just, please, don't be dead. Show up right now with your cheekbones and collar turned up and tell me I'm an idiot.
I want to die without you. The nightmares are back, but now they are of your face and all of the blood, Sherlock. All of the blood. The bloodshed in the war never terrified me as much as that burgundy liquid pooling around your head on the sidewalk. Mycroft's had me under constant watch since that day. He's right to. I fear he may make another appearance soon and scold me for my behavior. I fear he may be too late though. If I can't be with you in life, then I damn well better be able to be with you in death. I believe in you Sherlock, all the way to the end. And no one can ever say I didn't. Goodbye.'
John's fingers stopped typing on the keys after he posted his final blog. Sighing, he shut his laptop and set in on the floor. Reaching over to the table, he grabbed his gun and made sure it was loaded. "I'm sorry," John whispered before raising the gun to his head.
And that's when the door of 221b slammed open. "JOHN!" a baritone voiced boomed through the flat. There, running up to him with a panicked expression on his face, was Sherlock. Said man slapped the gun out of John's hand quickly.
"YOU BASTARD!" John screamed at him, tackling him to the floor and giving up on reason. "YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD! I saw you JUMP!" John continued to scream at Sherlock, oblivious to the tears pouring down his face and dripping onto Sherlock's. He threw punch after punch, hitting Sherlock's cheeks and chest. "Why come back now! Why now?" John shouted down at the former detective.
"Because I don't want you to die!" Sherlock shouted back at John, letting his anger get the better of him. John's face was twisted up with held back sobs and red from the strain of the emotions wracking through his body.
"I didn't want you to die, and look what fucking happened! So what gives you the right to stop me?" John screamed out again, his punches dying down until he was clinging tightly to the front of Sherlock's coat.
"Because I didn't actually die John," Sherlock tried to reason with John and softened his voice. He didn't want to shout anymore. John let a sob tear through him. Sherlock winced at the sound of it; so raw with emotion. John collapsed onto Sherlock, grasping onto him for dear life.
"Sherlock," John cried out into Sherlock's neck, sniffling and shaking. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held him tightly. John kept repeating Sherlock's name through his tears.
"I'm here now John, I'm here," Sherlock tried to console him, but John was so broken. Sherlock had no idea if he would ever be able to fix John. "I did it for you," Sherlock whispered into John's ear when the blond calmed down his sobbing.
"I missed you so much," John's voice was muffled but Sherlock heard it loud and clear. He pulled John up so he could look him in the face. His hazel eyes were shrouded with tears and help so many different words and thoughts that Sherlock nearly got lost in them.
"I thought about you every day," Sherlock told him gently. "I wanted to come back to you, but I couldn't. You would have been killed John, so I killed them. Moriarty's network is gone. We're safe," Sherlock was trying to reassure John, but more so he was also reassuring himself.
"Why now?" John felt rattled. His voice was raspy and he felt like he could barely breathe. But Sherlock was right there under him. Those were really his arms supporting John up.
"Because it I hadn't come now, it all would have been in vain," Sherlock's face softened and that's when John saw. He wasn't the only one who had suffered. Sherlock had gone through the same thing, maybe even worse than John had. His sky blue eyes flecked with green filled with tears.
"I love you," John choked out, falling back into Sherlock. This time he was hugging him. They were locked in a tight embrace that neither of them wanted to be free from.
"I love you, too John. Even before the fall," Sherlock said with honestly. The two of them lay like that on the floor of the sitting room with the door still wide open. They didn't care. They had each other back again, and that was all that mattered.