Following the sociopath (Sher/Johnlock one-shots)

John's fall

(A/N: So this is a long-ish one shot AU where John falls instead of Sherlock. I hope you all enjoy!)

I swear I have scoured the entire earth looking for my beloved blogger. I haven't found a single trace of him except for the blood that dripped down his hand as the wheeled his body away on a gurney.

Why did he have to fall?

I was almost positive it was faked though. John faked his death. That was the only explanation. He wouldn't leave me. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

But if he faked it, then why wasn't he here? My mind was tearing itself apart. Mycroft has even looked and hasn't found a thing. The smiley face on the wall now has a line of bullet holes forming a frown over the smile painted in yellow. It didn't deserve to be happy without John here.

It's only been six months but I am in much worse of a state that I had predicted. I have once again succumbed to the demons of dramatic weight loss, drugs, and grief. Mrs. Hudson begs me to eat, she always brings me up a cup of tea and a nice little sandwich everyday, it stays there until the next day. When needed, I will drink a glass of water and possibly an apple so I won't die of starvation or dehydration.

I send him a text everyday. I've solved what seems like a thousand murders in hopes that I'll find him beside me saying that my deductions are amazing, that they are fantastic, like he used to. But he never shows. I have even had Irene over to make him jealous. Nothing. What will it take to get my blogger back home?

I laid in bed that night. I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply, willing myself to sleep. And I did sleep, but not for long. I was awoken by another nightmare.

I stood on the pavement below John, talking to him through the phone. Seeing him standing on that ledge terrified me. My heart raced in my chest and my palms started to sweat. "Sherlock, can you do this for me?" I was scared to know what it was he was asking, but I had a bad feeling I already knew.

"You're not-this isn't a note. Is it?" I stuttered, my brain not wanting to flow in time with my mouth. I wanted to tell John how much he meant to me, how sorry I was. I wanted him not to jump. "John, no. Listen to me. We can fix this, Lestrade and Mycroft are on their way and I can get you down. Just stay calm and-" he cut me off as I tried desperately to talk him down.

"Stop. Just stop, Sherlock. It's not going to fix anything. I'm sorry."

"John, no." I almost whispered.

"Goodbye Sherlock." He said and I watched in horror as my best friend flew from the top of Bart's Hospital. This couldn't be happening, but yet it was. I kicked my feet into gear and sprinted as hard and as fast as I could towards him, faster than I had ever been chasing a criminal. "JOHN!" I screamed from the bottom of my lungs, filling the word with such air, such force I was sure all of England could hear it. Somewhere along the way I got hit by an idiot biker. I stumbled and fell for a second before hopping back up. By the time I reached my blogger, there were doctors and medics crowding him. I could see the blood trailing down the pavement, flowing smoothly from a wound on his head. I roughly pushed the people aside. They were in my way! "Move! Move! He's my friend! Let me through! He's my friend..." I started off screaming, but later trailed off, grabbing John's hand, pressing my finger to the inside of his wrist. There was nothing there, no pulse. Tears blurred my vision as I sat on the pavement.

I woke up screaming and crying in a cold sweat. I wiped tears from my eyes and took deep breaths. Damn, I need John with me now.

Mycroft suggested I get a therapist. Ha! Those morons. I don't see why he ever suggested one in the first place.