And From on High
Title: And From on High
Author: Lyn Archer
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 527
Genre: General, Angst
Warnings: Thoughts of suicide.
Rating: PG-13
Summary/Prompt: While listening to my iPod the other day, it played Blackbird (Beatles) and Sound the Bugle (Bryan Adams) back to back. Really quite heart breaking and it reminded me of how strong John Watson is. How he saw his best friend be broken down into pieces by the public and then take his own life, but never once did he stop believing in Sherlock Holmes. Because he knew Sherlock Holmes was a good man, a hero and the most human man he had ever known.
“I only come here on the anniversary.” John said after a moment. His voice caught in his throat, almost threatening to break.
“I can’t bear it any other time. If I come here, I see it all again, you standing and talking to me… Then, then your fall.”
He shook his head and looked down. John stared at the city street below. He looked at all the people there, bustling about their lives. He had no doubt that Sherlock could say things about every single one of them and be absolutely right.
“Three years is a long time Sherlock. But, I haven’t stopped believing in you. I will never stop believing in you. What I said that day at your grave still stands. You’re still the most human man I’ve ever known. You are a hero Sherlock, to me, Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Detective Inspector Lestrade.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his head. He was tired, so very tired. But, he wouldn’t do it. He was never going to take his life. He wanted to, he wanted to end the looks people on the street gave him, end the whispering, but he wouldn’t. He refused to give into it all. His psychologist said it was his stubbornness. But John knew it was his desire to see Sherlock again. Because he knew, deep down, that Sherlock wasn’t dead.
He wanted to prove to the world that Sherlock wasn’t a fake, that he was a genius and a good man. He wanted to do all these things, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Because a part of him believed that Sherlock was dead. That his friend, the best man he’d ever known was gone.
Closing his eyes, John tightened his fingers around the ledge of St. Bartholomew’s roof. He wasn’t going to jump. He couldn’t. It wasn’t who he was; it wasn’t even a remote thought.
John’s mind kept flip flopping between two radical decisions, two radical choices. After a long moment, he let go and moved away from the ledge. He stepped back, feeling all the hurt leave him in a rush. His shoulders slumped just a bit and he sighed.
“Are we going to go through this every year John?”
John turned and looked at Mycroft. He was silent before giving a slight shrug. “It’s how I feel close to him Mycroft.”
Mycroft was silent as he watched the ex-army doctor. This was their little dance, their little way of remembering Sherlock. “It’s dangerous.”
He started for the door that would take him back down into St. Bart’s proper. John stopped when he was next to Mycroft and looked up at him. “That’s never stopped me before. And it won’t stop me.”
Mycroft then handed John a sleek black phone. It looked almost like Sherlock’s. “Of that I have no doubt Dr. Watson. Good day.” He was then gone, going back into the hospital.
Once he was sure he was alone, John looked down at the phone in his hand. He felt his breath hitch into his throat and heart hammering in his head.
It was all a magic trick. -SH
Dated two hours ago.
Author: Lyn Archer
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 527
Genre: General, Angst
Warnings: Thoughts of suicide.
Rating: PG-13
Summary/Prompt: While listening to my iPod the other day, it played Blackbird (Beatles) and Sound the Bugle (Bryan Adams) back to back. Really quite heart breaking and it reminded me of how strong John Watson is. How he saw his best friend be broken down into pieces by the public and then take his own life, but never once did he stop believing in Sherlock Holmes. Because he knew Sherlock Holmes was a good man, a hero and the most human man he had ever known.
“I only come here on the anniversary.” John said after a moment. His voice caught in his throat, almost threatening to break.
“I can’t bear it any other time. If I come here, I see it all again, you standing and talking to me… Then, then your fall.”
He shook his head and looked down. John stared at the city street below. He looked at all the people there, bustling about their lives. He had no doubt that Sherlock could say things about every single one of them and be absolutely right.
“Three years is a long time Sherlock. But, I haven’t stopped believing in you. I will never stop believing in you. What I said that day at your grave still stands. You’re still the most human man I’ve ever known. You are a hero Sherlock, to me, Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Detective Inspector Lestrade.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his head. He was tired, so very tired. But, he wouldn’t do it. He was never going to take his life. He wanted to, he wanted to end the looks people on the street gave him, end the whispering, but he wouldn’t. He refused to give into it all. His psychologist said it was his stubbornness. But John knew it was his desire to see Sherlock again. Because he knew, deep down, that Sherlock wasn’t dead.
He wanted to prove to the world that Sherlock wasn’t a fake, that he was a genius and a good man. He wanted to do all these things, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Because a part of him believed that Sherlock was dead. That his friend, the best man he’d ever known was gone.
Closing his eyes, John tightened his fingers around the ledge of St. Bartholomew’s roof. He wasn’t going to jump. He couldn’t. It wasn’t who he was; it wasn’t even a remote thought.
John’s mind kept flip flopping between two radical decisions, two radical choices. After a long moment, he let go and moved away from the ledge. He stepped back, feeling all the hurt leave him in a rush. His shoulders slumped just a bit and he sighed.
“Are we going to go through this every year John?”
John turned and looked at Mycroft. He was silent before giving a slight shrug. “It’s how I feel close to him Mycroft.”
Mycroft was silent as he watched the ex-army doctor. This was their little dance, their little way of remembering Sherlock. “It’s dangerous.”
He started for the door that would take him back down into St. Bart’s proper. John stopped when he was next to Mycroft and looked up at him. “That’s never stopped me before. And it won’t stop me.”
Mycroft then handed John a sleek black phone. It looked almost like Sherlock’s. “Of that I have no doubt Dr. Watson. Good day.” He was then gone, going back into the hospital.
Once he was sure he was alone, John looked down at the phone in his hand. He felt his breath hitch into his throat and heart hammering in his head.
It was all a magic trick. -SH
Dated two hours ago.