Hey all, so I haven't written fiction in about 4 years, then this popped into my head. I have a rough idea of where it's going, but I'm not sure if I should continue, so please read and let me know. Critique would be lovely.

Warnings: major character death (or is it?), fem!John (again, just so you know what you're getting in to), dark, short (only a snippet).

'Are you ready?'

'You're sure it'll be quick?'

'Yes.'

Joanna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, drawing herself up. 'Okay.'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly, 'We don't have to do this.'

'You need this.'

'It doesn't have to happen this way'

'What other way then?'

There were other options, he knew, but none would be as effective. Truly, he'd known the instant he found a way to change things that this was what would happen. This is what needed to happen. At the same time, he wasn't sure if he could go through with it. Joanna was his blogger, his flatmate, his friend and confidante, and he knew doing this would break him.

'I won't be far behind,' he murmured, unsure if he was speaking to her or himself.

She touched his arm. In the darkened street she seemed pale. He knew she'd be grey in a moment and took the chance to study her. Living, breathing, alive, and gazing at him with such utter trust that he knew he would follow her as soon as the task was done.

'I wouldn't be far behind,' he repeated, touching a hand to her hair. She closed her eyes.

Then he stepped forward and with one smooth movement, slit her throat.

Continue?