It's been 3 months since Sherlock jumped from the roof of St Bart's ...
John was walking through the graveyard heading towards Sherlock's grave when he saw something out the corner of his eye. Looking in the direction he saw something move in, he notices something laying on the ground by a tree so he goes to look. Getting closer the object turns out to be a scarf. Just like Sherlock's.... "No John it can't be his... don't be silly there's lots of them around" John says to himself as a few tears escape and run down his cheek. At that moment he's back in that memory talking to Sherlock on the phone while he's standing on top of that roof.
"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asks nervously
"Turn around and walk back the way you came." Sherlock demanded sounding nervous all of a sudden
"No, I'm coming in."
"Just. Do as I ask. Please." Sherlock said as he watched John close the taxi door and begin to walk towards him.
"Where?" John asks worried now
"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop." Sherlock replied
"Oh god." John gasps as he looked up to see Sherlock standing on top of St Barts
"I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."
"What's going on?"
"An apology. It's all true."
"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."
"Why are you saying this?" John demanded not understanding where this is all coming from.
"I'm a fake." Sherlock, eyes going blurry from tears as he said those three words.
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"
"Nobody could be that clever." Crying now.
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Its just a magic trick." Hoping John would believe it.
"No. Alright, stop it now." John said as he started to move towards Sherlock again.
"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." And held out his hand to signal for John to stop and stay where he was.
"Alright." He signaled back that he had stopped.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"
"Do what?"John had asked
"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."
"Leave a note when?" John had replied knowing exactly what he meant just not wanting to believe it.
"Goodbye, John." Tears streaming down his face as he stood there and watched John.
Sherlock threw his phone on the ground behind him and waits a few seconds, then he jumps, falling towards the ground fast.
Back in the present, John shakes himself from the memory and starts to cry. Slowly he heads back in the direction of his best friends grave for his weekly talk with the headstone. Just then he hears footsteps come up behind him and sniffling. It's Mrs. Hudson.
"Hello John, how have you been?" She asks him pulling a tissue out of her pocket.
"Hi Mrs. Hudson. I'm not coping at all, I am still angry with him! I just want him back, I can't even do normal daily things without being reminded of him and how annoying he was." John says sighing looking back at the tombstone.
"I know dear, I miss him too." She sobs into her tissue. "He was a good man ... had a great heart."
They stand in silence both with tears running down their faces.
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