Here's the fic! Enjoy! Please comment! (I don't own any characters, and the idea is my own.)

John breathed in, then out slowly. He could feel his body shaking from the sobs that burrowed deep within, the epicenter being his aching heart. His mobile buzzed. Goddammit, he thought, Molly. He tossed the mobile aside, hearing it clatter and continue buzzing. He looked down at the pavement, eyes swimming. This can't be happening. He's dead. The familiar tingle of loneliness shivered through his body. He glanced at the now-silent mobile, but decided the only cure for this kind of despair was Sherlock. Sherlock or death. He shuffled, step by step, to the ledge. The same ledge. Tears flowed freely down his face as his foot stepped up. The only sound he was aware of was his heartbeat. The wind reached him as he paused, gulped, and spread his arms, ready to take the plunge.

"Wait!" The stairs door clambered open, causing John to whirl around in alarm. A wide-eyed Sherlock met his gaze. "John, no..." he ordered, holding out his hand. He spied John's mobile and unused Army pistol lying on the ground.

John stepped down, disbelief written across his face. "You're not real," he whispered, trying to collect himself. Sherlock's face fell.

"Come on, John. Let's go home," he whispered futilely. "Please." Tears stung at his eyes. "Don't do this. I'm here."

John calmly walked forward, his eyes red. "No, no you're not. You…are an illusion, just some sort of trick my mind is playing on me." He sniffed. "Go away. Let me die in peace."

"No. I'm real. I'm here now."

"You used to be real. Now you're just dust. So leave me alone."

"John—"

"Shut up!" John jolted forward, aiming for Sherlock's face, that bloody face, the one he used to admire. But it had been a long time.

The punch connected, and a spurt of blood shot up between them as Sherlock fell. John couldn't have been more surprised.

"S-Sherlock‽" John knelt beside his fallen friend. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

Sherlock mumbled, "It's all right, John. Just don't do anything stupid like that again."

"I'll try. You prick." John leaned across and kissed his forehead.

"Oh. Is that supposed to make it better, doctor?" came the sarcastic reply, to which John's cheeks reddened.

"No…I….I just…" he stammered.

"No, it's…fine," Sherlock intoned, pulling himself up next to John. They were now nose-to-nose. John pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped Sherlock's face clean, before giving him a proper kiss.

Thank you! Please comment!