John was humming quietly, reading a book he had recently picked out from the library when his phone started ringing. He looked around then picked up his phone. “Hey Baby.” He said with a smile.

“Hello, Love. I want you to come over to St Bart’s. I need you.”

“Okay,” John closed his book softly and set it aside, standing up. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you wait?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll call you when you get here, love you, John.”

“Love ya, bye.”

“Bye.” Sherlock said and hung up. John put on his shoes and a jacket before going downstairs, outside, getting a cab, and telling the driver where to go.

He hummed and looked out the window as they drove, eventually coming to St Bart’s. He paid the cab, and just as he stepped out Sherlock called him. “Hey, Lovey.” He said.

“Hello, John.” Sherlock said through the phone, sounding serious, the kind of tone he used for cases.

“Sherlock? Are you okay?”

“Look up. I’m sorry.” Sherlock responded. John’s heart skipped a beat, he looked towards the roof. Sherlock was standing there, Moriarty was behind him making funny faces.

“Oh no, oh no, Sherlock, NO!” John gasped, “Please, Sherlock! Don’t jump!”

“I love you, John…” Choking back a sob, Sherlock inched a little closer to the edge. “I really love you, and-- and I don’t want to do this. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don’t want you to see the aftermath of this… There’s no car there covering your vision. I’m going to really die.”

“SHERLOCK!” John cried loudly, he can’t deal with this again, especially not since Sherlock was his boyfriend now.

“Goodbye, John,” Taking a deep breath, Sherlock hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. He held out his arms, lifting his leg like he was about to walk off.

But quickly and swiftly, Sherlock turned over and kicked Moriarty’s shin, making the man gasp. He grabbed him by his shoulders, staring into his eyes for only a second before throwing him off the ledge. However, before he got to far, Moriarty grabbed his coat, pulling Sherlock down with him.

In a matter of seconds, Moriarty was on the ground, dead, but Sherlock was hanging onto a window sill, trying to keep himself up. John started running inside to go to where Sherlock was, but before he could get to him the detective slipped, falling to the ground. John ran back outside and collapsed at Sherlock’s side, checking his pulse. Beating.

“Oh thank gosh,” John mumbled, leaning over and kissing Sherlock deeply. He pulled away after a moment, hearing the sirens of an ambulance. He kissed Sherlock again, opening his mouth and giving him air. Slowly, Sherlock’s eyes opened. He looked up at John and kissed him, wrapping arms around his neck.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Sherlock mumbled.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I--”

“It was supposed to happen with me calling you back and saying, ‘And this is for you, Watson,’ and throw this down to you.” He pulled out a small box, opening it. His eyes were sparkling. “Marry me?” He asked.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Yes! Yes! I would love to marry you! Yes!”

Sherlock smiled widely, letting John pull him into a deep kiss. He heard people ‘awww’ing around them, but only ignored it, holding John tightly.