John's POV

“And if you're not out of the flat by tomorrow I swear I will burn all your stuff! I want you out of my flat you little life sucking leech!”

That's my flatmate/boyfriend Sherlock Holmes yelling. He's high right now. I had a conversation with his brother over the phone about him and his habits. Unsurprisingly, he was listening. He got angry at me for thinking he has an addiction, and for the past hour he's been ranting about me.

“I hope one of these days I go on a case and the body is yours!”

“You're a horrible lover!”

“I want nothing more for you to be out of my life!”

“Fucking sod!”

He won't stop yelling about me.

All I did was talk to his brother about how much I wanted him to be healthy and live without health problems.

“I want you dead!” He screamed and threw something at the floor, yelling loudly.

Right now, I'm laying on my bed and crying. That last comment pushed me to my feet, I walked over to the window and opened it up. I could see people outside, they all looked happy.

I didn't think I could live with my heart throbbing like this, making tears fall out of my eyes, off my chin, and onto the window sill. Without a second thought, I jump out of it.

When I land I'm still awake. My head is pounding. Some people crowd around me, but I stand up and rush back inside. I run to my room and throw myself out the window for a second time.

The last thing I hear is screams from onlookers.

Sherlock does nothing, he could hear everything happening but now he was just laying against the wall of his room, his eyes closed and his mind blank.

The next time I wake up I'm in a hospital room. “Damn!” I yell, standing up. I realise that I have a cast around my leg, broken foot. This angers me. I limp to the window, which is very high up. I'm about to break it and jump out when someone grabs my arms.

There's a nurse there, holding me back. I yell at her and curl up in the corner, silent.  

It was a few hours until the door opened and someone walked in. The entire time, I just stayed curled up on the bed, wishing I had died.

The bed pressed down a bit as someone sat on it. Seeing the face of the man, I started screaming, crying hysterically.

The nurse pushed the man out and closed the door on him.

“Please, let me speak with him.” He said, looking through the window on the door. “Please? I can calm him down, I swear. I just need to speak to him.”

I shake my head, crying even louder. The door opened and the man stepped in again, going to the bed and setting a hand on my chest. “Honey?”

I cry more, pushing him away.

“I was high and irrational. You shouldn't have tried to kill yourself.” Sherlock said, setting a hand on my shoulders.

“Why are you even here?! You hate me! You wanted me dead! You wished I would move away and leave your life forever and now you're asking me to forgive you?!”

Sherlock sighed and pulled out a box from his jacket pocket. “I knew it would need to come to this.” He said, opening the box to reveal a ring. “As husbands, I promise, I will do anything in my power to make you happy.”

John started to smile, though he was still crying. He threw his arms around Sherlock, “R-really? Is this just to make me forgive you?”

“No. Your head is cracked open. Your ankle is broken. It'd be cruel for me to do that. I truly love you, John Watson.”

John cried into Sherlock's shoulder, hugging him tightly. “I love you too!”