Author's Note: My school still doesn't have power, so I've had a week of rolling around on my back while the rest of the east coast recoops from Sandy's assault. Mostly, I've been indulging in my fandoms and occasionally dabbling in homework (I'm sure I'll regret that order of priorities come Sunday, but it still sounds pretty good right now. This is a quick ficlet based on the Moriarty/Sherlock Falling scene in Game of Shadows. Enjoy~!

Sherlock was the one who disappeared over the railing, but John felt like he was the one who was falling.

Their eyes met, for the briefest of moments. John entertained the idea, very fleetingly, that he could have stopped it. Stopped them. But he knew he couldn't have. By the time his mind had registered what his eyes were seeing, Sherlock was gone. Moriarty was gone with him. Should he have been glad? Moriarty had, as stubbornly as Sherlock, refused to allow John to live his married life in quiet comfort. He had threatened him, threatened Mary.

But he couldn't feel anything. John closed his eyes. No relief. No It's over. It was hard to feel with the air being choked out of his lungs. As Sherlock fell, John fell with him; the wind roared in his ears, his flesh burned with cold. They—He—Sherlock crashed into the water that seethed and churned miles below, and his eyes flew open. The party went on inside, unaware that the greatest, smartest, most foolish man the world had ever known was... But John couldn't hear it: the music, the chatter, the clatter of dancing shoes on the marble floor. Water filled his ears, his mouth, his nose and lungs. He couldn't think.

"John, hurry! John—"

He gripped the railing so tightly that his hands ached. Stone cut into his palms. He had no recollection of crossing the balcony. He looked down. He had never been a man afraid of heights, but his entire body trembled as he looked down. He couldn't see the base of the waterfall. It was masked by a cloud of mist and the reflection of the snow-covered mountains that surrounded it.

"John? John, what's wrong? Where is he?"

Sherlock Holmes was...gone?

Impossible. Or merely improbable?