TOP SHERLOCK/JOHN MOMENTS [PER EPISODE]
↳ the reichenbach fall [1/6]“you told me once that you weren’t a hero. there were times i didn’t even think you were human, but let me tell you this- you were the best man, and the most human human being that i’ve ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. so, there. i was so alone, and i owe you so much. please, there’s just one more thing, one more thing- one more miracle sherlock, for me: don’t be dead. would you do- just for me? just stop it, stop this.”
#martin freeman #john watson #sherlock #mine #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real.#sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone.
#okay no #this moment hurt #Because John has no idea #He has absolutely no idea that that’s the last thing he’ll ever say to Sherlock Holmes face to face #But Sherlock does #He knows that and he knows John is right in what he says #He’s about to go out and give literally everything for his friends #for John Watson #But to protect John he has to hurt him first #has to make him leave #so he just sits there and takes it #Because friends protect you
motherlethe:thehappyincident:tugamaggie:fuckbyte:behindtintedglass:fandombeatslife:sherlockspeare:ktbakerstreet:tangofox:valeria2067:ununpentium:
It’s a glimpse, nothing more. A flash of dark hair and high cheekbones and pale eyes. And John knows it’s insane, knows it’s impossible, but it looked exactly like him.
Their eyes meet for a second, and the pair on the other side of the tinted taxi window show no signs of recognition. But not for a moment does John let himself believe it could be anyone else. He simple didn’t see him in the crowd, or did not have time to react between recognising him and the car drifting smoothly around the corner.
He must believe these things, because he must believe in who it was in that cab.
There was no-one else like him. No-one else it could have been.
It was Sherlock.
It is all John can do not to drop his bags as he races around the corner, breathing that name repeatedly under his breath. For the first time since Switzerland, he runs with no limp, he runs like he only ever did with Sherlock.
But even free from psychosomatic pain, he is not as fast as a car. He knows he will never catch it. “Sherlock… Sherlock…” he pants, even as he grinds to a halt in the middle of the road. He feels the name bubbling up inside him, becoming a shout as the car disappears.
“SHERLOCK!”
For several seconds, John just stands there, watching the point where the taxi disappeared. He is aware of people around looking at him, a car slowly pulling towards him, expecting him to move. He doesn’t care. It has just hit him, really, truly, that Sherlock Holmes is dead. He will never ride a London cab again, never look over the city with those cool, colourless eyes. No matter how hard John wishes, he will never come back.
The car behind him beeps its horn, and John limps away.
~
Sherlock turns and watches the figure, once he is sure it can no longer see his face. It runs after him, mouth forming his name over and over. As he watches, a burning desire grows, and he wants nothing more than to stop the taxi, jump out and gather the man in his arms. He never meant to hurt anyone. He never meant for this.
“You know that guy?” the cabbie asks, noticing what Sherlock is staring at. “You want me to stop for him?”
Sherlock turns around, catching the driver’s eye in the mirror. “No, it’s fine. Keep driving.”
He has whipped out his phone before he even knows what he’s doing.
Take care of him.
- SH
He has already sent the message before he taps out an afterthought.
Please.
- SH
Seconds later, his phone chimes.
Already picked him up. Have been following him since he left Baker Street.
- MH
And before he can even draw the breath to think of a reply, it seems that his brother also has more to say.
He’s crying. I don’t know what to do.
- MH
There is anger in that message. And desperation. And remorse. And most of all—there is guilt. The words blur in his vision, and with trembling fingers, he wipes the tears that have dropped on the screen of his phone.
Neither do I.
- SH
He never sends that last message.
