My Sunshine

John was shaking his foot impatiently, glancing left and right as the cab drove down the street. Can't it go any faster?  The instant the cab pulled up by the curb on the side of the road opposite to St. Bart's hospital, he got out, paying the cabbie quickly before looking around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He was receiving a call.

Taking it out, he saw the caller ID was Sherlock. He accepted the call and broke into a jog, looking for the man himself.

"Hello?"

"John," Sherlock's familiar baritone voice replied.

"Hey Sherlock, you okay?" he asked nervously, still looking around frantically.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came, now."

"No, I'm coming in–"

"Just do as I ask!" Sherlock said frantically. "Please," he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

John was still looking for Sherlock. "Where?" he asked quickly as he turned his back on the hospital, walking quickly across the road.

"Stop there," Sherlock said as he reached the sidewalk. John was confused.

"Sherlo–"

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

John turned around slowly. Sherlock was standing on the ledge of the roof of St. Barts, his long coat blowing in the slight wind. "Oh god," he said in horror, as it was the only thing he could think of saying.

"I– I can't come down, so we– we'll just have to do it like this," Sherlock said emotionlessly.

No, this can't be happening, John thought. He felt so helpless. He was so far away. "What's going on?" he said anxiously.

"An apology." Sherlock paused, as if he didn't know how to continue. "It's all true."

"Wh–what?" he said in disbelief.

"Everything they said about me," Sherlock continued. "I– invented Moriarty."

John was baffled. "Why are you saying this?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I'm a fake," he said forcefully, his voice breaking.

"Sherlock..." John trailed off. How could Sherlock possibly be a fake?

"The newspapers were right all along," Sherlock said, his voice catching in his throat. "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," he said desperately, rushing out his words. "The first time we met, the first time we met, you knew about my sister right?"

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." He sniffed, and– was he crying? "It's just a trick. Just a magic trick."

"No," John shook his head. "Alright, stop it now," he pleaded, starting to walk towards the hospital.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move," Sherlock said urgently.

"Alright," John sighed as he stepped back with his free hand in the air. He could hear Sherlock breathing rapidly as he stretched his hand out toward where John was standing.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me," he shouted. "Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" John said nervously.

"This phone call... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note," Sherlock rambled. John took the phone away from his ear, refusing to believe what was in front of his eyes, before he bought it back.

"Leave a note when?" John said shakily.

Sherlock gave a small grin. "I'm sure you know what I mean," he murmured before speaking again. It wasn't exactly speaking, though; he began to sing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey."

"No, Sherlock, don't you dare," John's voice cracked. He was crying.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you," Sherlock continued as tears slowly streamed out of his eyes.

"Sherlock–"

"Please don't take my sunshine away," he finished quietly.

Sherlock loved him.

Sherlock loved him back.

"No. Don't," he sobbed helplessly. "Sherlock! I love you too. I– Sherlock?" he whispered.

"Goodbye, John. I love you," he said as if he'd been doing it for years. Taking one last look at John, he dropped his phone on the roof, looking straight ahead.

"No! Sherlock!" John screamed desperately as Sherlock lifted both of his arms out to his side and fell forward towards the ground. John stared horror. This had to be some sort of sick twist of fate. They'd only just told each other...

"Sher–"

Sherlock's body hit the ground with a sickening thump.

John's hearing blanked out. He needed to get to Sherlock. Without thinking, he sprinted across the road.

He stopped dead when he saw Sherlock's lifeless body.

A bicycle hit him, jolting him back to life. Falling to the ground, he fought to stay conscious after hitting his head on the tarmac. He saw medical staff rush out of the hospital to shoo away the onlookers.

All that mattered right now to him was Sherlock.

He struggled to his feet, moving toward Sherlock as fast as he could.

"I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please," he begged as people tried to stop him. "No, he's my..."

What was Sherlock to him, exactly?

"He's my– my friend, please," he stuttered, pushing through. He reached down, grabbing Sherlock's wrist to take his pulse. Nothing.

A woman removed his hand from Sherlock's wrist, and more medical staff arrived from the hospital. They were carrying a stretcher.

His knees gave way, and suddenly he was on the floor. He vaguely registered two onlookers supporting him.

Sherlock's body was rolled over. His eyes were staring straight at John.

"No," he choked out as Sherlock's body was lifted onto the stretcher.

He shook off the people, standing up cautiously. His head was still throbbing from the impact on the road a mere minute ago. As Sherlock's dead body was carried away, he started crying again.

"My sunshine," he whispered quietly to the retreating body.

No one heard him.

No one would ever know what John's world was like without his sunshine.

A/N: I'm sorry... but anyway, how was it? Let me know in the comments. Have a good day! – Ren