Ficin nimi: Wake me up, make it stop
Kirjoittaja: Scarlett
Beta: Winga ja eräs Finin ulkopuolinen
Fandom: BBC!Sherlock
Genre: angst, (sort of) deathfic
Ikäraja: K-11
Päähenkilöt: John, Sherlock
Yhteenveto: I can’t force words to leave my mouth, I can’t find even one syllable, all I’m capable of doing is just listening to him and hoping that he would come down.
Vastuuvapaus: Sherlock ja John ovat Arthur Conan Doylen luomuksia, modernisoinnista taasen kunnia kuuluu BBC:lle, Gatissille, Moffatille ja kumppaneille.
Varoitukset: Spoilaa kakkoskauden finaalin viimeisiä minuutteja, joten sisältää myös Sherlockin "itsemurhan".
A/N: Inspiraatiosta kiitokset aivan randomisti mieleen tulleelle idealle ja The Reichenbach Fallin soundtrackille. ♥ Omistettu Tobakille.
Wake me up, make it stop
But...
I’m confused.
Mrs. Hudson hasn’t been shot, so who called me and why? There must be something weird going on. I have to go back to Barts, get to Sherlock, tell about Mrs. Hudson and warn him. Did someone want to get me out of the hospital? Why? I have to get there quickly, just in case.
In a second the thought slaps me right in the face. Oh my God.
It’s him, it must be him, it was he who wanted me away from the hospital. He’s back again.
I turn around, run out of the house, look left and can see a taxi coming. Thank God. Taxi! Please stop, please stop, please stop! Taxi! It slows down, I start running again, it stops, there’s a guy next to it, going to go in... No no no! Police! Sort of. I open the door and get in. The words just burst out without me even thinking properly, and all I can say is thank God I was so quick at reacting. To St Bartholomew’s Hospital, please.
A few minutes feel like a few hours. It’s difficult, frustrating, painful, consuming to keep still, just sit there and wait and think about all those things that could be happening at this very moment, only because I left him there alone.
As soon as eternity has passed, the taxi arrives in front of Barts. I pay the driver and get out, which is when he calls me. Thank God, he is all ri- wait! Why is he calling me? He never calls – unless he needs something from Mycroft or Lestrade - but I answer nonetheless. Hello? He says my name, and the way he does it makes me feel that my fear isn’t unnecessary. Oh no. Hey Sherlock, you okay? I start running towards the hospital, but he promptly insists that I have to walk back. Why? No, I’m coming in. Then he says that I have to do what he asks and the seriousness of his voice makes me obey.
Where? Suddenly he tells me to stop. Sherlock? Why here, what on earth is going on, why doesn’t he let me go inside, does he already know what’s going on, what am I supposed to do here, is he watching me from somewhere?
He asks me to look up and I see him - he’s on the rooftop, standing on the edge. This isn’t what I expected, not at all, what is he doing there, why is he there? Oh, God. One solution immediately comes to me, but I refuse to think more about it. He can’t. He wouldn’t. He has no reason to. Except he has. Shut up, he has no reason! He would not do it. Did he arrange someone to call me and... No. He wouldn’t do that. What’s going on? I notice that the symptoms of panic – tightness in throat, fast heart rate, the shortness of breath - are slyly starting to overcome me, making everything feel unreal, a bit like a dream. A nightmare.
I’m confused. He’s claiming it’s all true. What? He utters more sentences that don’t make very much sense to me. Where is this all leading to? I know him, I know that he’s not a fake. Why are you saying this? My throat tightens even more, so many thoughts start running around in my head and that one answer to the question is still lurking in the back of my mind, that one bloody answer and I can’t make it go away even though I want to. But it isn’t possible. Things like that don’t happen, not if the person in question is Sherlock Holmes.
He keeps calling himself a fake. Sherlock. I don’t know what else to say, but I am positive that those things aren’t true. I can’t force words to leave my mouth, I can’t find even one syllable, all I’m capable of doing is just listening to him and hoping that he would come down. He goes on, stating that the newspapers were right all along. Bollocks! That I should tell people about him inventing Moriarty. Bollocks! That he created Moriarty for his own purposes. Bollocks!
I have to say something. Something, anything, he is not a fake... Yes! Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met, the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right? He replies by saying that nobody could be that clever and I don’t even have to think what I’m going to say next. You could. I know him, I know that there’s no one like him, that he is the most brilliant detective in the whole world, the cleverest man you can find. The best.
He laughs, sounding a bit surprised. And a bit sad.
Then... silence. And four words filling my head: Sherlock, get down. Please.
After a few seconds he starts talking again. Researching me? No. A magic trick? No. How can he even think for one second that I would believe him after all those months? There is no chance that all those deductions would be just tricks as I have been there next to him so many times when he has solved the cases, just by being himself, by noticing those little things that other people are unable to see. No, all right, stop it now! I’ve had enough. I must go inside and run to the roof as quickly as I can, get him down from there, stop this craziness that is happening right now, I must... But all of a sudden he tells me to stay where I am, sounding very serious – almost panicking - and making me obey again. You’re all right.
Oh my God. I have never heard him like this, he sounds so... desperate and unhappy. I can’t do anything but simply keep my eyes fixed on him, just like he says.
He asks if I would do something for him. Do what? Then he starts talking about leaving a note and the thought starts immediately crowding my head, it’s not anymore lying in ambush somewhere in the corners of my mind, it has attacked, it’s written in huge, red letters now, screaming right at me, making every part of me ache. It’s not an impossible solution anymore.
Oh, God. I feel like I can’t breathe. I must stop him, there must be something I can do, I must get him down from the roof, on the ground he would be safe! He can’t jump, he just can’t, he can’t kill himself. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t do things like that. Oh God, there is no way I can get to the roof on time, there is no way to stop him from doing it. Leave a note when? I’m aware that it’s an unnecessary question because I already know the answer: he. is. going. to. jump. Heisgoingtojump.
I have never felt this helpless in my life.
Then he says it. “Goodbye, John.” No. Don’t. is all I can say. Words are beyond reach. Just come down! Turn around and walk back inside! Please, do it! For me, Sherlock, for me...
He’s not on the phone anymore. No. No. No. Sherlock! I scream as loud as I can.
And watch him spread his hands and lean forward. No. This isn’t happening. No.
Oh my God.
He’s falling.
Everything feels so unreal. My heart is beating faster than ever. Is this how it looks like when the world abruptly seems to be moving in slow motion? Sher- He’s still falling when I say it, it’s like he’s falling forever.
I’m just staring at him, I can’t look away, this isn’t happening, I know it isn’t, it’s just a dream, it’s just a horrible nightmare, I will wake up soon, so very soon, then everything will be okay again, we will solve crimes together, he will be there, alive and well, not falling from the roof, which didn’t happen for real, it’s just a horrible nightmare, nothing else, stop this, please somebody wake me up...
Suddenly my legs are moving on their own and I’m running to him, as quickly as I can, there must be something I can do, I can still help him, he isn’t dead, I know he isn’t, I didn’t even see him hitting the ground, he must be all right, he must be, my legs stop moving, I slow down and now I see him, oh God, he’s lying on the pavement, he isn’t moving, oh God, this isn’t happ-
Blackness.
Blackness.
Light.
Pain.
What on earth just happened? Why am I lying here? Why is my head aching? Why can’t I hear properly? Something hit me, something hit me hard... I must stand up, I must go to him, I can still help him, I surely can, there are so many people around him, why are there so many people around him, somebody please do something, save him, Sherl-, Sherlo-, oh God my head hurts, I must keep going, I’m a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please!, why are there so many people, why aren’t they letting me go to him, they have to let me go to him, No, he’s my friend, he’s my friend! Please, they’re saying something, I don’t understand anything, I’m still feeling dizzy, there’s blood, there’s so much blood, I finally get to him, oh God, there is no pulse, he has no pulse, he’s dead, oh God, he is dead, it can’t be, this isn’t happening, he can’t be dead, why are they grabbing my hand, why are they trying to move my hand, no, why are they moving me away from him, stop, I can’t leave him alone, I feel so dizzy, I feel so faint, Please, let me just...
Blackness.
Light.
I can’t leave him, I must open my eyes, they are turning him around, I can see his face, it is Sherlock, it really is, his eyes are still open, no, this isn’t really happening, it can’t be Sherlock, it has to be somebody else, suddenly everything is so blurry, why can’t I focus my eyes, Oh Jesu- no... God, no...
Oh, God. And then they’re moving him inside, they’re taking him away from me, he really is dead, Sherlock is gone, why won’t these people let go of me, why won’t they just go away, please leave me alone, my head feels better, oh God, nothing of this has happened for real, it’s not possible, this must be a joke, I’m just staring at something, feeling nothing, feeling everything, feeling nothing, what am I supposed to do now, oh God, I feel so empty, so unreal, this can’t be true, I have to remember how to breathe, oh God, when does this end, somebody, anybody, stop this, when will I wake up from this nightmare, somebody, anybody, wake me up, please, wake me up now, make it stop.
Please.
