So I was sick...and this popped into my head...so yea, fic!

It was torture, standing on the roof ledge of Bart's, watching John below. Why did he have to be there? Why did he have to watch? Why couldn't John have left when he asked him too?

The darkest part of Sherlock's heart was glad John was there, in his final moments. He didn't want to burden John with watching, but deep down, Sherlock was selfish, wanting his friend, his everything, to be with him until the end.

But John, sweet, caring, loving John, didn't understand what he needed to do, "I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock knew if he got down from that ledge, John was as good as dead. And Sherlock couldn't do that, not to John.

"What's going on?" John stared up at him from the street below, unaware that this conversation would be their last.

"An apology." Sherlock bit his lip, not taking his eyes off his army doctor, "It's all true."

"Wh-what?" The confused sound in John's voice nearly broke Sherlock. Like he was piecing together what Sherlock was saying, but didn't want to understand it as fact.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Sherlock glanced back at Moriarty's body, cursing the man once more. Even in death, he was tormenting him, putting John in danger.

Not for long. And never again.

John's voice rang in Sherlock's ear, breaking him from his thoughts, "Why are you saying this?"

Because I love you, and I can't let you die because of me….Sherlock took a deep breath, turning back to look at John, "I'm a fake."

"Sherlock ..."

Sherlock could feel tears pricking his eyes. It tore at his pride to denounce himself like he was, but for Lestrade, for Mrs. Hudson, for John, it was a small price to pay,"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up." There was agitation in John's voice. He was resisting. Of course he was, this was his John, he never went down without a fight, "The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"

Sherlock knew he would have to convince John to let him go. Let him hate him…it would make the goodbye easier for him… "Nobody could be that clever." He whispered weakly.

"You could."

Oh John…if the circumstances had been different, if John's life weren't in the balance and Sherlock's about to end, Sherlock would have been glowing under the praise. What Sherlock would give to hear John say "brilliant" just one more time.

But Sherlock needed to convince John, or he would never be able to jump, "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." And he had. He had been desperate to impress John since he first walked into that lab. It was all for John, "It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

"Now you and I both know that's a complete load of bullshit, Sherlock."

Sherlock blinked back tears. He hadn't expected John to resort to anger. Confusion, yes, desperation, yes, but not anger. "Oh? Tell me then how I did it?"

"Sherlock, there is no way you could have known we were ever going to meet. The only reason we were introduced was because I happened to be taking a walk during Mike Stamford's lunch hour and I mentioned needing a flatmate. It wasn't part of my routine; it was a complete act of chance." Sherlock could hear John inhale over the phone, causing a rush a static, "And considering the fact I was with him the entire time we walked back to Bart's, I know he didn't contact you. So unless Mycroft contacted you and sent you all my information, which I know you'd rather bugger Anderson than accept his help, there was no way you could have gotten, let alone memorize my information before we met."

Part of Sherlock's heart swelled with pride at John's little deductions. His wonderful John… "John, I—"

"I'm not done, Sherlock,"John was walking across the street now, getting closer. "And why would you have a website dedicated to your deductions, a website that is years old, if you were just trying to impress me? And how could you have been involved in any of the crimes Donovan suggests you are, when we have no idea which crimes Lestrade will call us in on? Even some of the weird ones, he tries to solve himself before calling you. There's no way of knowing…unless you were a genius." John chuckled weakly, standing on the sidewalk beneath Bart's, "But you want to know the most obvious reason I know you really are the brilliant man you are?"

Sherlock couldn't help himself, "H-how?"

"Harry."

"Your sister?"

"You didn't know she was my sister, you thought she was my brother." John smiled, a small gesture Sherlock could barely make out from where he was, "Sherlock, if you had somehow been able to research me before we met, you would have known Harry was Harriet. Even Anderson could have made that connection. But no, you made a basic mistake based on logical assumptions. You saw the name 'Harry' on my phone, followed by 'love Clara,' and logically assumed I had a heterosexual brother. If you had read about Harry in my file, you would have commented that Harry was a lesbian without any observation to the fact….There's nothing more elusive than an obvious fact."

"I made that mistake on purpose John," Sherlock tried, his mind reeling at John's words and desperate to make John believe.

"Not bloody likely, Sherlock. For a man of your ego, missing an obvious fact is a cardinal sin. How many times have you berated Lestrade for missing something as basic as that? No, you wouldn't have made that mistake on purpose. Maybe you might have faked missing a smaller fact, but not something that basic." John chuckled, "Ironic, really, proving that you're a genius through a basic mistake. But your biggest mistake, Sherlock, was thinking I would ever desert you."

Sherlock's breath was shaky, and tears were streaming down his face, "John, I—"

That's when the shot rang out, echoing through the streets below. "NO!" Sherlock screamed, watching John.

But John didn't flinch…nor did he fall, or bleed. He just smiled serenely up at Sherlock, "Moriarty isn't the only one with access to snipers, Sherlock."

"But…how?" This wasn't like Sherlock, to not know what was happening, to not see all the facts.

"That one was easy. You're standing on a roof ledge, about to take your own life, Sherlock. You aren't the suicide type, you are far too fond of yourself. Even if Moriarty threatened your life, you'd rather be murdered than forced to commit suicide. And you don't give a damn about the papers, how many times have you told me you don't care what people think about you? No..the only way he'd get you on that ledge was if he threatened someone you cared about…and that's a short list, I'm afraid…I assumed I would be on there…"

"Of course you'd be on that list, John, you idiot!" Sherlock's voice broke into sobs, "Oh god…is this what it's like?"

"What like?"

"To be stripped bare by deductions?" Sherlock wiped his eyes in vain, "To have all your secrets unraveled by observations, leaving you naked for the world to see?"

"A bit…but when you do it, you leave the soul naked for your eyes only."

Sherlock smiled weakly, "But…how did you manage to get another sniper at such short notice?"

"Let's just say a minor politician in the British Government owes us a few favors."

That got Sherlock laughing, a raw sound after all his crying, "When did you get so good at deducing and anticipating ?"

"…I learned from the best." John's voice was warm, soothing, "Who else is in danger, Sherlock?"

The good mood was gone, Sherlock was shaking again, "Lestrade…" He found himself saying before he could help himself, "Mrs. Hudson… John, you need to call Mycroft and—"

John's chuckle cut him off, "This is the man who kidnapped me before we became flatmates, just to make sure he properly vetted me, you don't think he's listening to this conversation as we speak?"

There were three short pips following John's statement in Sherlock's earpiece, sounding Mycroft's ever-reaching presence. Of all the times for Mycroft to meddle.

"It's going to be fine, Sherlock…is going to be all fine."

What did Sherlock do to deserve John? His wonderful, beautiful, John. God, he loved him…

"I love you too Sherlock. Now get down from there so I can tell you face to face."

For a split moment, Sherlock was filled with fear. He hadn't meant to tell John he loved him out loud…but then John's statement reached his mind. John loved him too…They could actually do this…

"Step down from the ledge, Sherlock. We have a world to save, criminal syndicates to topple…and I'm a bit hungry."

Sherlock laughed, honest to god laughed, "Stoppit John, we can't giggle at a crime scene."

"Well let's move away from the crime scene then."

With a small smile, Sherlock stepped down from the ledge. If John was Sherlock's reward for all the crimes he solved, he would continue to fight on the side of angels until the day he died.

A day, he realized now, would not be for a long time to come.

Not going to lie, all the things John mentioned were going through my mind when I first saw this episode, especially about Harry.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this angst/fluffy/BAMFy bit of ficcery!

Let me know what you think!