An Interesting Expression

Sherlock couldn't stop thinking about him. With every stride he took, he heard John's name in his head.

'John. John. JOHN!' 

It was raining harder than ever and the well-known detective was running through the streets of London. His heart was beating in his chest and his black curly hair was bouncing on his head, he was trying to run to John as fast as he could. Sherlock had his suspicions about what his friend was about to do, and he wanted to stop it more than anything, he wanted this nightmare to just stop.

He wanted to wake up beside John, his handsome brunette and grey-haired partner, and be dry under the covers beside him. He wanted to be in his room, listening to the silence of the morning, concentrating on the steady breathing beside him. Loving the beating of the heart next to him that he knew loved him back. He wanted to kiss the man he loved so dearly, but he knew he couldn't. He had to run because John was about to do something unforgivable. 

John was about to jump.

Sherlock knew that his friend was feeling sad, angry even, ever since his wife Mary had died. He even saw the scars and cuts, but he couldn't help John, the detective was never very good with advice-, never mind friends. He didn't know how he would stop him, or what he would say to him, but he had to do something. John was the one guy who made Sherlock human, the one who made him want to keep living. He couldn't lose him.

                                                                      *** 

John was sitting down, voices screaming in his head. He knows he's making a mistake, but he just can't feel this anymore. He knows it's going to hurt his friends, he's going to hurt Sherlock by doing this, hurting the only person he truly loves anymore. Of course, he loves Molly, Rosie and Mrs. Hudson,  Greg and Harry, but Sherlock is the one person he truly loves. 

The thoughts and voices in his head were getting louder now, he's gotten used to it over time

'You're going to hurt them'

'You're fucking up again John'

'You know how much it hurt you when he jumped... you're going to hurt him more'

'Don't do this'  and on the contrary, 'just do it and be done'

                                                                     ***

Sherlock turned on to King Edward Street and saw St Bart's Hospital, the place he himself jumped a few years ago. He ran through the door, up all the staircases and onto the roof, where he saw John.

He was sitting there by the edge, crying. Sherlock went cold as ice when he noticed that John was writing something on a piece of paper, which Sherlock feared was a note. The kind of note someone leaves for the people they cared about before they die. In other words, a suicide note.

Sherlock walked as quietly as he could over to John, who hadn't noticed his friend yet. John dropped to his knees and Sherlock ran forward, thinking the Doctor was falling off the ledge.

'John!' he heard his voice crack and his eyes filled up with tears. He continued, 'please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing,' John turned so fast he made Sherlock flinch.

'What are you doing here?!'

'What am I doing here? You were hurting, I came to comfort you. And I thought you would need convincing to not do something you would regret, so I might've followed you...'

'How did you know?

'You thought I wouldn't know? I've seen what your wrists look like. I've heard your crying in your sleep; we sleep in the same bed John. I've read the crumpled notes in the bin 'Please, you don't have to do this. You are-' Sherlock tried to find the right words, but couldn't quite find them. He shook his head and hung it low, 'please, we need you. I need you,'

'I guess,' John mumbled so quietly Sherlock could barely hear him.

'Look, John. I said something to someone a while ago. Do you want to know what I said? I said taking your own life is an interesting expression. Taking it from who?' Sherlock carefully sat down beside his friend on the ledge, 'Once it's over, you're not the one who will miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everyone else. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it.' Sherlock said to John as softly as he could, and John started to cry even harder.

'Sher-' Sherlock cut him off,

'If you were to die, it would make me feel horrible. Please don't leave, I love you John, please don't leave me. You make me human,' Sherlock's voice cracks

'I love you. Thank you,' John says, puffy-eyed and tired as if he just woke up from a long nightmare. Sherlock put his hand in his friend's and stood up, but he must've moved too fast because John flinched and a paper fell out of his hand. Sherlock picked up the paper, and read it.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry for all of this. I love you so much and even if you doubt it sometimes, you're the most human, human being that I've ever known. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. Please tell Rosie that daddy loves her and that I had to go and see mommy. Take care of her for me, I know you will do well even with all the jokes about you. I love you all so much, but I just can't do this anymore. I love you. I'm sorry."

'Sherlock,' John bowed his head and teared up, heaping on another helping of shame for hurting his best friend. Sherlock leaned in, moving closer to John and on the verge of tears, from both sadness and fear for his friend. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn't. The man wasn't good enough with words to say all that he was thinking. John moved in to rest his forehead on Sherlock's, their breaths shaky and sad and relieved that the other was there.

Sherlock gently leaned in and touched his lips to John's. It was cold out and they were both drenched from the rain, but they felt so warm, so much better. So at home when they're together. Sherlock smiled at him tenderly, eyes full of relief and love and wonder for what the future would bring them.

'I love you too,' They were so close all he had to do was whisper. John turned and wrapped his hand in Sherlock's as he pocketed the note. They started to walk home in the rain.

Sherlock pulled the note out of his pocket and read it again, "What jokes about me??"