Everything was going wrong for John. He'd lost his job, everyone hated him, and he was alone. He'd distanced himself from everybody since the day his best friend left him, and no longer spoke to anyone as kindly as before. He'd become rude, inconsiderate, and just so much unlike himself and more like Sherlock had been. What was the point to talk to others if he would always be alone anyway? There wasn't one and he kept telling himself that. There wasn't even a point to live anymore. If he couldn't be with Sherlock, why should he be at all? This was what led him to the steps no man should ever again climb.
John stood atop the hospital building where his best friend had stood only three years ago. Was this what he saw before he'd fallen? A tear escaped John's eye as he looked below, remembering where he stood and what was said that day. He spread his arms as the taller man had, his body covered in the same jacket and scarf that swayed as the wind harshly blew against him. He'd kept them, and they were the only things he really had left to remember him by, these clothes and the flat. He'd been crying himself to sleep every night in the empty bed in the room that had once been inhabited by Sherlock.
He'd lived both in hope and in fear since the man left him. Hope filled him that maybe it was all a simple trick, an act, that one day, Sherlock would come back for him and things would be back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with him around. However, at times, mainly late at night, when John lay there sobbing in a bed that wasn't his, the fear that Sherlock was really dead and would never be able to bring him to another case again was completely overwhelming. Both of these thoughts haunted him. All he needed was closure, and this was his closure.
He took in a deep breath as the scarf covered his face, hoping there was still some impossible trace of Sherlock's scent in it. He looked over the edge once more, examining the ground below him. People were rushing below, probably late for work, or just simply in a hurry. But that was the thing. Lives go on. Even after somebody dies, everyone else left on this horrid earth, is left to live on, knowing that their best friend, brother, mother, son, or even a total stranger who they'd only met once, was gone forever.
Forever. That's what John had feared most, though he had never admitted it to even himself until after that day. He was afraid of living a simple life, boring as ever. He feared living an eternity without going to cases with his best friend, living with excitement no matter what had actually happened. He also feared living his whole life going to cases without him, and in some ways, this would even be worse. He didn't want to live any longer without the taller man who he missed with all his heart. The man who he never even got to tell how he truly felt. The man who was now gone forever, and would truly never come back.
He took in a deep breath before leaning off of the edge of the building, letting himself go. And in that single moment, he swore he was dead already. In fact, he'd been dead for three years. His mind flashed through images of his life, showing how truly wonderful it was once he'd met the man. He thought of cases he'd went to with the detective, and the way he'd always been completely astounded by his intelligence, even if he'd seen it a million times. He wouldn't have even minded to have seen it a million and one. He craved to hear the man's voice just once more, and hopefully he would once he, too, was gone forever, and just another lifeless vessel found on the ground. Only he wouldn't have anyone running after him, alone and afraid of what would happen next. No one cared enough for him to do as he did for Sherlock.
He felt his body being grappled by the wind, its arms snaking around his waist, holding him still for a moment. And in that single moment, he swore he heard Sherlock's deep, baritone voice shouting for him.
"John, no!" it shouted loudly from behind him.
The human brain was so amazing. It could do such amazing things, just to keep its vessel alive. It had just reincarnated the beautiful, dead voice from the man John had fallen in love with. And he loved every second of it, real or not.
He was pulled back onto the building by the arms of the wind.
'What?' He thought to himself through all the self-hatred and confusion. He turned around, tears streaming down his cheeks, and there stood a tall, slim man in a coat much like the one John was wearing. His eyes grew large, somewhat not even believing what he saw. His mind had played tricks on him before, but never before had they been this clear. The mirage looked exactly as Sherlock had, not one single fault. He almost seemed real.
John took another look, blinking away the tears, though his vision was still blurry.
'Wait,' he thought. 'He is real.'
He stood there, mouth slightly agape in shock as he gasped for air, unable to catch any. His eyes grew wide as he clutched at the man holding him in his arms, his fingernails digging into his coat. He pressed his head against the man's chest, unable to believe that he was really alive.
But he was. That voice he heard really belonged to Sherlock. Sherlock was really standing there next to him. John was really in Sherlock's arms. And he didn't want to be anywhere else.
"John, I'm so sorry." The low voice said, the vibrations from his chest thrumming strong against John's head. John clung to the tall man as hard as he possibly could, still in complete shock as the tears flowed.
"John, please talk to me." Sherlock said, guilt obvious in his voice as a single tear welled up in his eye.
"I- You jumped- you-Sherlo-how?" He stumbled on his words before pulling his head away from the man's chest, though still not letting go with his hands. He didn't want Sherlock to even so much as leave his sight for a second ever again.
"It was all a trick, John. Moriarty had a web of snipers ready to kill you, and I had to get rid of them before I came back. I couldn't risk your life like that." He sighed. "Though I see I did anyway."
John nodded, at a loss for words. He stared into the taller man's eyes, bliss filling him. He thought he would never see his beautiful, glasz colored eyes again. But here he was, staring into them once again, and nothing could make him feel better.
Sherlock pulled him close once more, wrapping his arms tighter around his small body, and this felt like heaven to John.
"Sherlock, don't leave me." John said through his sobs and tears.
"I won't." John felt a pair of lips on his forehead. "I promise."
John looked up at Sherlock's face, smiling as he bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress his sobs. He put his hand onto the nape of Sherlock's neck and pulled him close enough to close the space in between them. Their lips pressed together sweetly as John kissed Sherlock through his tears, pouring every ounce of forgotten emotion into the kiss. Every single bit of despair, loath, passion, and pure love was poured from John's mouth into Sherlock's as their soft lips danced against each other perfectly.
Sherlock hesitated at first but, after only a moment, returned John's kiss with the same amount of emotion that had been received. When John pulled away, a smile was plastered to Sherlock's face as though it had been there all along, though it was obvious to John that it hadn't been.
John pressed another simple, chaste kiss to the detective's lips before laughing slightly.
Sherlock nodded in response before pulling John tightly against him. "I'll never leave you again, John. I couldn't. Not after seeing you like that."
John bit his lip once more to refrain from sobbing. "I love you, Sherlock. I swear I do." He said, his voice muffled by the taller man's soft coat. He took in Sherlock's scent, loving the strong, not at all faded like it was on the scarf he wore, sweet smell.
"I love you, too, John. And that's another reason why I couldn't leave you again."
John smiled at himself. He was whole again. He found his other half. He was no longer alone, and he had never felt so purely amazing in his entire life. He was with the man he loved, and he would be for forever. And this didn't frighten him in the least.