Sherlock woke the next morning; his eyes opened and he found himself still lying on the couch. He was stiff all over and he looked over beside him and found John slumped over the arm of the couch. Sherlock sat up and straightened his muscles; other than being slightly stiff he felt remarkably good. He realized in surprise that it was the first night since his flashbacks began that he had not had a nightmare or vision. He sat up and leaned against the couch, watching John sleep. Maybe John had been right about talking about all this…

He still felt….uncomfortable about yesterday. He had completely lost his ability to control his emotions. He hadn't even remembered the thought process that had gone into him being so distraught that he had cut himself so severely; he was more careful than that now. It was like his mind had totally blacked out. He remembered John finding him, vaguely, but his memory didn't really become clear until John had been fixing his wounds. Then he was aware of what was going on and he was horrified that he had been found in such a state. He had never wanted John to find him like that; he had never wanted John to know how undone he really was. The words, the confessions had come barreling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Before he knew it, he was a sobbing mess. He was sure that John would be disgusted by him.

Only he wasn't.

John not only wasn't disgusted by his behavior, he had hugged him. He had cried as well. It wasn't at all what Sherlock had expected. Maybe he should have; he knew that John wasn't like everyone else, but he still thought John's tolerance of him only went so deep. Yesterday he came to the realization that he was…..wrong.

People didn't stick around in his life; no one ever had. He'd been tolerated by very few people and the ones that did tolerate him, well, that only went so far. It was true what he'd told John; people tolerated him for his genius abilities. Most people only wanted him for that; when they realized that he was damaged, or not perfect…..that was it.

But John…..John wasn't like that. He looked over at his sleeping flat mate, his calm face as he slept, even breathing pattern. John wasn't like anyone else that he'd ever met. Sherlock had known that from the time that he'd met him. He wasn't sure what it was that made him different, but Sherlock knew from that first day, when John had seemed so amazed by his abilities, when he'd followed him to the crime scene without a question, when he'd shot the cabbie for him a mere day after meeting him, he knew he was different. Sherlock had just assumed that John was a unique kind of person; he hadn't ever really allowed himself to believe that it was because of him. That John did all of those things for him. But he did….because he cared. Because they were actually friends. The realization was a lot of for Sherlock; no one had really ever cared about him, not in the way that John did. He hadn't realized it at the time, but it must have been what kept him going while he was gone all those years. No other person would have mattered enough to keep him going. He looked at John again, so peaceful and looking much younger in his sleep. Sherlock had thought for a long time that he had saved John's life but really John had saved his life…several times now.

Sherlock rubbed his hands over the bandages that covered his cuts and thought about what had happened yesterday. John had seen the real him, all of him; the crazy, uncontrolled and even scary parts and he was still here. Even when he admitted seeing things, even when he had been bleeding everywhere, even when he had admitted that he had killed people in his desire to get rid of Moriarty's men. Sherlock slammed his eyes shut; even the mere thought of that sent a wave of an undesirable emotion-fear?- though his body. But John was there…..right beside him. He was well, Sherlock was okay…..Sherlock took in deep breaths as he thought about this. He was able to calm himself down at those thoughts. John had said that he would be okay…..maybe, just maybe he was right.

…

"Are you sure that you want to do this Sherlock? Because we can go back…I'm not sure this is the best idea" John said as he and Sherlock paused at the door at the top of the steps.

Sherlock took a few deep breaths….one….two…..three…."Yes, I'm sure. I'm ready." He said with confidence. John gave Sherlock a small smile before opening the door. Light spilled in the doorway as he and John walked out onto the roof.

Sherlock took a few steps out the door and paused. The day was sunny and bright, unlike the last time he was on this roof. He felt a slight sense of fear in him but it was nothing like the last time. Sherlock squinted against the sun and looked around; it was just a roof, nothing more. And yet…..it felt like more.

It had been two months since Sherlock and John had returned from their holiday. It had not been an easy two months but Sherlock was finally beginning to feel better. It was hard for Sherlock, not being able to work, but he knew that he hadn't been ready for it yet; it was even harder to accept that. Sherlock still had occasional flashbacks but they were getting less and less. The nightmares seemed to be harder to shake. When they had been on holiday the nightmares had dissipated mostly; Sherlock refused to admit that it was linked with the fact that most nights he and John fell asleep together on the couch watching telly. When he had come back home to his own bed by himself, the nightmares had come back with a vengeance. More nights than not Sherlock would wake up in the middle of the night to John beside his bed trying to reassure him. This too had lessened over time but it was still a big issue. He tried to take comfort in the fact that John insisted that these would lessen until they were only an occasional issue. Though he was dismayed when John shared that his nightmares of the war still occasionally came back to him after nearly five years out of the service.

Sherlock wasn't really sure why he'd brought himself here, to this roof. It wasn't like him seeing this roof would magically make all his problems go away; in fact it might not do anything. It might even bring on a flash back. But if there was any chance at all that it might help him some, Sherlock wanted to try it. But really it was curiosity that brought him here. So many times that he had dreamed about, thought about, relived that day in his head and he just had to see this place for himself one more time. To remind himself that this roof was just a roof; it was not in and of itself the hell that it had brought to his life. It was just a place, just a place that couldn't hurt him.

Sherlock walked slowly towards the edge of the roof; he looked down at the street, so normal, with cabs driving by and people walking about. With a second's hesitation Sherlock stepped up onto the edge, the same edge he had stood on over three years ago. He could feel John hovering behind him, watching cautiously, afraid no doubt that Sherlock would do something stupid like jump. But he didn't say anything; maybe he knew deep down that Sherlock would never dream of doing something that stupid after all the struggle to get through the past three years.

Sherlock stood on the edge for a long time, staring from the spot directly below, where he fallen, and the spot across the street where he'd seen John for the last time. He felt a pull of emotion at his chest and for a second feared he might go into another flashback; he breathed in and out deeply for a few moments, the feeling passing. He could sense John's worried eyes behind him. "That was the hardest thing I ever did" Sherlock said.

"What? What was?" John asked from behind him.

Sherlock didn't turn around to face John, he kept looking at the spot of pavement that John had stood on. "Saying goodbye….trying to make you believe those lies" Sherlock admitted. "After everything else…..that was still the hardest part"

There was a long pause before John spoke. "Watching you jump….made me want to follow you" he said, his voice strained. "I never for once believed what you said about Moriarty. You were too real….all of what we did was too real for me to believe that it had been fake. It was so….painful watching you jump. Believing that you really had died, that I had seen the exact moment your life had ended. It was much worse than if I had seen you die by a bullet or something like that. Because it wasn't an accident….it wasn't for a purpose. I really believed that you chose to die, that nothing in this world could convince you stay…..including me"

Sherlock stepped off the ledge and turned toward John. "I had to make you hurt" he said, as hard as it had been to do. "If you had any idea that it was fake…..I knew you'd search for me until you found me. You have no idea how dangerous it was…..even with me dead, or supposedly dead…..you were still in danger"

John looked puzzled. "Really?" he said. "I never…..even knew."

That had been the point; Sherlock had never wanted John to know he had come close to death. Somehow, through it all, he had succeeded. "Right after it happened, one of Moriarty's loyal men was determined to kill you because I had killed him. He was so close" Sherlock could see the memory in his mind, so clearly. He felt the walls try to close up on him but Sherlock did what he been practicing the past few months. He breathed in and out, focusing on John, keeping his eyes on John to stay in the present. Sherlock felt a burst of triumph when it worked. "He was at our flat" Sherlock said finally.

John looked alarmed. "uh….really?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded. "I was there…..I followed him." Sherlock looked down at the ground. "I've killed people John…..lots of people. What they've always said about me was right. I am a psychopath. I'm no different than he was" It was hard for Sherlock to say the words, to admit them. John was the last person he wanted to think less of him, or worse, be scared of him. But it was the cold, honest truth.

"Of course you're different than he was" John said strongly. "You are nothing like him. If you had to kill someone it was out of self-defense. Protecting yourself…..protecting me. And you feel remorse about it which no psychopath would do. Sherlock….the situation you were in could be handled no other way….other than running for the rest of your life."

Sherlock went to sit on the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. Maybe John had a point; Sherlock had never considered that he felt guilt over what he had done, but now feeling a burden begin to lift from him, he wondered if he had. A moment later John sat down beside him. There was a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes before John said, "I'm thankful you know"

Sherlock looked at him. "What for?" he asked. He didn't think he'd done anything worthy of thanks. Quite the opposite in fact.

"Saving my life" John said. "you sacrificed three years of your life to save me. Went through hell….for me. Thanks."

Sherlock thought about it; John said it like he'd had a choice. Really all along there had never been a choice. John was….special….to him. Sherlock had never been able to say that. He looked at John and gave him a small smile.

"How come you did it?" John asked. "Wouldn't it have been easier to not have?"

Sherlock wanted to laugh at how wrong that assumption was. Things would not have been easier if John had been killed and he hadn't jumped. The only things that mattered to him would have all been taken away. He would have ended up jumping of his own accord.

"No…..it would not have been easier" Sherlock said. He looked at John, his small smile growing larger. "Besides…..someone really smart told me once that that's what friends do. Friends protect people"

John laughed. "And someone even smarter said alone protects people" he said.

Sherlock couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "Someone smart was wrong…..alone doesn't protect anyone" he said with surety.

The End

Well, that the end of "I'm Coming Undone". Thanks so much to all of you who followed, Favorited and reviewed. You made this my most popular story so far! I appreciate you all. If you haven't already, check out my other two current stories, "Demons Visit Me at Night" and "Would You Come and Play with Me?"