The one you lose...

What would happen if Sherlock hadn't faked his death?

Sheriarty one shot


1. standing on the rooftops

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any characters involved.


I sunk to my knees involuntarily reaching to touch the spot on the wall where he once stood. My eyes no longer filled with tears but at that moment my heart was torn apart once more.

Chapter 1

Every day. Every day I went up to that Goddamned roof to peer down at the spot where I had witnessed Sherlock Holmes fall to his death. All waking moments for me were spent remembering his face contort into a look of sheer terror as he deduced that I wasn't the enemy after all. Every night his face haunted my dreams and now that it is the only thing I have left of him, I wish it will never stop.

I fell in love with Sherlock. I had never felt like that before and I was scared so when I was offered the job I took it. All I had to do was be the face of the operation, nothing else. I had to stand on top of Saint Bart's and convince him to jump. He wasn't supposed to do it. He wasn't supposed to die.

As I stand in front of your true enemy Sherlock I wonder how you didn't get it. Isn't it obvious? He set everything up, he acted innocent of all knowledge and you fell into his trap. How did you not notice Sherlock? At the moment I await monetary pay for all I have done for him but no amount of £20 notes will ever be enough for me anymore all I want is you. I needed you Sherlock.

I strolled away feeling weaker than ever before. Your death had not been for nothing, I would not let that happen. I began to hear the sirens wailing, closer and closer, coming to get me. They'd put me in jail but that's not my style. I began walking. I knew exactly where my feet were taking me. Not once did I give it a second thought.

I began climbing the stairs that lead to the roof of Saint Bart's, not thinking only moving. Soon I would be with him. I wouldn't suffer much more. Finally I arrived at the heavy metal door that would lead to the ending of my story. The door swung open and I was confronted by the grey sky that is so typical in the UK. It was so bloody typical that there was no rain, no sun, nothing special. The normal sky that they see everyday. Perhaps it was meant to be. I have no worth. Nobody would miss me.

I got to the edge of the roof where Sherlock stood. Where I would stand. My feet took me there involuntarily and it seemed that my body had made up its mind. I looked down at the street below me, the spot where he had been taken from me, I remembered the cold and lifeless face of Mycroft Holmes. He deserved everything I gave him for what he did to you, Sherlock. He ruined you. The sirens began to get louder. They would find me and it seemed that some of them already had. They stood with their guns pointed at me. "Now or never Sherlock" I whispered to myself and with that the ground began rising up to meet me.

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