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Written for auction prompt - don't fall into my arms (I'll only disappoint you)

Word Count - 285

Don't Fall Into My Arms (I'll Only Disappoint You)

He stared at the spot on the ground where Sherlock had lain, blood pooling around his body, eyes vacant. He'd been there every day since… since. Today was the funeral, and John still wasn't sure if he could face going.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a black car pulled up beside him, the door opening to reveal a somber looking Mycroft.

"John. I. It's time."

John stared at him for a moment, before he looked up at the roof of Saint Barts.

"I could've caught you," he whispered. "But I let you down."

…

Sherlock watched from the safety of the trees as John crouched in front of his gravestone. It was an odd feeling, standing off to the side watching someone grieve you.

"Just one more miracle, Sherlock. For me."

"I will John," Sherlock whispered into the wind. "I'll come home."

…

"Do you know how it feels? To watch someone you love fall, and not be able to catch them?"

John wasn't sure if he was hurt, angry, elated or in shock. Quite possibly all four. Sherlock, a man who had been dead to John not an hour ago, stood in front of him.

"Yes."

Taken aback at the answer, John stopped raging to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"I watched you at my funeral, John. I watched you grieve for me."

"... I didn't fall."

Sherlock raised his own eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

John shook his head. "I fell a long time before then, Sherlock."

…

John lay in the bed, beneath high thread count sheets, with warm arms wrapped around him.

"I'm terrified that I'll disappoint you."

Pressing his lips to Sherlock's bare chest, John smiled. "You're here. That's… it's enough."