Deduce Me

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The End of an Era

Sherlock

I suppose one could say that it had been a long year.

What with frantically trying to locate Moriarty, trying to solve the cases he threw at me, trying to solve the cases my brother threw at me, graduating high school, and everything in between.

And it all led to this-- standing at the top of Bart's Hospital, tears streaming down my face as John stood below me, begging me to come down. Except I can't. At least, not in the way he wants.

Moriarty's body lay somewhere behind me. He's dead. He's really dead this time--  I checked.

I came up here with a plan; a plan I hoped Mycroft would be able to help me carry out. But it's impossible. I see that, now, how impossible that plan is. It would never work.

There's nothing else I can do.

It has to be this.

This is the only thing I can do to protect the people I love.

I close my eyes as I fall, not wanting to see the pavement rush up to meet me.

Mycroft

I had been waiting for a text from Sherlock for an hour now. I was waiting for some sort of signal as to which plan could be carried out.

We had designed 47 possible escape routes. Each of them had their own code words. Everything was in order. I was only waiting on the text.

When it came, it was not what I had expeced.

Text From: Sherlock

Goodbye, brother mine. I'm sorry it didn't work out. Take care of John for me.

I was out my office door within seconds, already dialing Greg's number.

Lestrade

I got to the scene as soon as Mycroft called. I had been told to wait nearby, in case I had been needed to execute one of the many escape plans the brothers had arranged.

But apparently, none of them had worked.

Mycroft called me, frantic. I could hear his voice breaking, and I knew that tears would be threatening to spill from his eyes.

I made it around the corner just in time to watch John reach Sherlock. I saw him reach for his wrist... and let it fall back to the ground as John collapsed. I watched as doctors and nurses rushed Sherlock through the wide double doors, frantically tring to save his life. But I've worked enough suicide jumper cases to know that a fall from that height is always fatal.

I grabbed John by the shoulders and pulled him close. He cried on my shoulder for an hour before Mycroft and I finally took him back to our house.

The funeral was a week later.

Even Mycroft cried.