The news had spread like wildfire worldwide. Twitter trends began, and Facebook pages spawned surrounding the incident.

It had taken John and me a while to get back to 221B. I was mostly to blame, as I had wailed for hours in the street, bawling my eyes out at the sudden loss of...

For some reason, it was hard for me to even think his name.

It nearly killed me to deliver the news to Mrs. Hudson. When I'd broken it to her, she'd reacted like I had; only perhaps she was ten times worse. She'd been closer to him than I had ever been. I had thought back to the last time I'd spoken with him and our relationship as a whole. We had become as close as an American and a sociopath could be in the short amount of time we'd known each other.

That first night was rough for both John and me. I knew it'd been rough for Mrs. Hudson too; it was a given fact. Whereas she probably cried the whole night without sleeping one minute, I couldn't get comfortable. John had become an insomniac that night, slumped in his armchair, glaring out the windows in the apartment. As for me, I was probably the only one who got minutes of sleep. I ended up sleeping on the floor. For some reason, the couch wasn't agreeing with me that night.

It hadn't been the only thing that had disagreed with me that night.

I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see him pacing around or sitting in his armchair, but he wasn't. I sniffled, rising up off the floor. I realized the living room was empty except for me. I guessed John had gone to bed finally, like me, at some point during the night. Maybe he'd given up not long after I had. We both needed sleep. We both needed a lot of things right now.

As I searched for John, I kept placing him everywhere I looked. I pictured him playing his violin. I remembered how his music had actually lulled me to sleep one night. I'd expected him in the kitchen, to be doing some experiment like John had told me he had a tendency to do. But my heart broke every time I realized he was gone.

You never knew just how much you missed a person until they were entirely removed from your life, no matter if they were the closest to you or merely an acquaintance.

I was befuddled as I came up empty in finding John. I pursed my lips, wondering. I turned my phone on, extremely tempted to call him. If he was out, I needed to know where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. I felt responsible for him.

My phone vibrated in my hand at least six times in total, the last message appeared to be from John. He was visiting his therapist and could possibly be a while. Huh. I never knew John had a therapist. There were a lot of things I probably didn't know about him.

The nagging sensation of the theory came back into my brain. I pushed it aside, wondering if I should go to therapy.

I checked my five other unread messages. All were Amanda, like I should have expected. All were about The Fall. All involved the same things. Are you okay? How did this happen? Call me so we can talk! You probably want some space right now, but please call me soon! I know you'll want to talk.

I decided I'd call Amanda later once I ate. I found that difficult to do. Was this what it felt like, to lose someone close to you? Well, he wasn't exactly close to me, but we at least lived in the same apartment for a while. He had become a part of my life, playing a slightly bigger role than I anticipated.

I barely poked at the cereal in the bowl. The table quivered as my phone vibrated. I sighed, recognizing it was Mandy calling. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I answered.

"I'm glad you picked up," she said slowly.

"Hey." I sounded lifeless, like a robot.

"How are you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"So it's really true?"

I sighed heavily. "Yeah, it is." I swallowed, staring at my soggy cereal.

"Does this mean you're coming home soon?" She tried not to sound too eager, but I knew she would be happy to have me back in Maryland.

"Maybe. I have to see how things go for the next few days." My nails scraped the table's wooden surface. "I'll let you know of anything definite."

"How's John taking this?"

"Not much better than I am, I think. He's seeing a therapist right now. I've got the place to myself." I looked around warily, wondering if someone was going to pop out and pounce on me.

"Listen; call me anytime you want to talk about it."

"Mandy, I—"

"I know it's still a sore spot for you, but I'm putting it out there."

"Thanks. I really don't know what I'd do without you." A smile wobbled on my face.

"Sometimes I wonder. I better go. You'll get through this, Rachel, I know you will."

I set my phone back down on the table, glaring at its blank screen. Overwhelming, powerful emotion crept up on me. It ate away at my defenses quickly. I shut my eyes, willing the meltdown away. But I couldn't, not when flashes of yesterday played before my eyelids.

The confrontation. The gunshot. Him and I locking eyes for the last time. Him falling forward. Seeing the body on the rooftop. Breaking down from being crushed under such a heavy tragedy.

When I opened my eyes, they were full of tears.

* * *

I hated being alone, but I did it to myself. I didn't want to go out. I was unsure if I could step outside of 221B without seeing things that I didn't want to.

John was still visiting his therapist, so he was going to be gone much longer than I wanted. I couldn't ask Mrs. Hudson to join me; I couldn't do that to her. I'd done enough damage last night telling her the tragic news. And besides, I was more than capable of being alone.

At least, I thought I was. My optimism diminished when night began to fall. It dropped even more so when John didn't come back by sunset, and I was still alone. At night.

Being alone wasn't so bad, not if you had music to occupy the empty space. I kept my iPod ear buds in, keeping the music low. I paced, not daring to sit down. I couldn't bring my eyes to the fireplace, because I'd see the skull, and I'd be reminded of its owner. I couldn't even stare at the walls, especially the one that had that smiley face still on it. Even the bullet holes were still there. I was never present for the wall's abuse, but I had been told the story. The wall took those hits all because he was bored.

I let the music envelop me. I wanted to get lost in the music, to forget the real world for a short while. I picked up on the song, though it took a moment: "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls. I closed my eyes, sauntering cautiously and blindly around 221B. If Mrs. Hudson was calling me, I wasn't paying her any mind.

Keeping my hands in front of me, I wandered around, making sure I didn't bump heads with a wall or a door. Just as the instrumental break in the song began, I opened my eyes.

I had never been in this part of the apartment before, probably because I barely acknowledged its presence. He was here...once. I knew it had to be his room.

As the music kept playing solemnly, I crept into the room. It was a plain bedroom that had the necessities: a bed to fit the occupant, a nightstand, a dresser, and a storage cabinet. I expected a closet more than a cabinet, but I guess a cabinet could be a good substitute.

My heart raced, telling me this was a bad idea, being in this room—his room. I didn't know why I was so curious; this room was extremely plain compared to the rest of the apartment. I wondered if John was considering making me move in here. I hoped to God he didn't. In fact, I hoped he hated the mere idea of me moving into this now-empty bedroom.

My legs dragged me deeper into the room. I stopped myself abruptly, completely ignoring the music droning in my ears. What am I doing? I shouldn't be doing this. For all I know, his ghost could haunt me until the day I become one. I decided then that investigating his room wasn't worth the eternal haunting.

The moment I turned to head out of the door, I felt like I had run into a brick wall. My eyes popped, nearly exploding at the sight of him. My mouth fell to the floor, my legs scrambled backwards. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. He's gone, he's dead. I saw his body!

The familiar gaze of those brown eyes shook me to the core. I wished it was John who had snuck up on me, not him. Anyone but him. I swear my iPod was siding with him at the moment, because the familiar start of "Stayin' Alive" hummed in my ears. God damn it, not now.

He was dressed to the nines, like he had been after I saw him for what—who—he truly was: a snake. He threw me a feline smile, teeth gleaming at me. He didn't speak, just advanced on me. He took one step forward, I took two back. I felt around my pockets for my cell phone, looked around and hoped it fell out to the floor so I could grab it. Then I remembered I'd left it on the table in the kitchen.

The moment I looked up, a part of the day was coming back to me. It happened so fast, like the gunshot going off. One second he was smirking at me, and the next, his eyes widened in victory. He pulled out the gun, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Though I hadn't witnessed the murder of Jim Moriarty myself, it was what I concluded to happen.

I couldn't hold back the choked scream of terror that escaped me.

Panicked, the first thing I did—stupidly—was turn around yet again and head for the wall furthest away from the door. I pressed myself against the wall, heaving, closing my eyes. This isn't real. He'll be gone. Why won't this damn song stop playing already? "Stayin' Alive" was still going on in my ears, but I was too petrified to pause the music right now.

When I opened my eyes, Jim Moriarty was gone. His body, the gun, the blood...all gone. He was gone from the world, and now he needed to be gone from my mind, forever.

I blew out air noisily, bending down, trembling. I really need to start taking sleeping medication if this continues or gets even worse. I sucked in a huge breath. Okay, maybe I need to eat something. Yeah, that's it. I need to get out of this room, head for the kitchen...

Slowly, I pulled myself from the wall, heading for the open threshold. I took five steps before movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Keep going, ignore it. Eyes are playing tricks. Assuring myself that I was hungry and tired, I continued onward.

My feet dragged across the floor, the hairs on my arms stood on end. I was never one to have this kind of sixth sense. I assumed it to be nothing, especially after what I just witnessed in this bedroom.

I stopped just in front of the threshold, tensing up. I know it'll be nothing. I'll turn around, and it will be nothing. I made the turn, ready to confirm that I was worrying over nothing.

Only instead of seeing nothing, I saw someone.

**Well, ain't this a fun trip for Rach. 0.0

P.S. The video is really beautiful and tragic <3**