Promise

"Can you just promise me one thing, Sherlock?" John whispers.

"I'd promise you everything if it meant you staying with me." Sherlock tearfully answers. 'Why couldn't I save you? Why didn't I come earlier?' Sherlock's attempt of hiding his tears were futile. He's openly crying now, moans and sobs emitting from his usually sharp mouth.

John winces from the pain in his abdomen. The loss of blood will certainly kill him.
"Can you promise me that you'll remake me? I don't want to go for so long without seeing you again."

Sherlock sobs even louder at hearing this. His heart shatters even more. His love, asking him to remake something already perfect was just heartbreaking. It would be impossible. No one would ever have the same mannerisms, or laugh, or smile. No one would ever be able to write with the same flare on his blog!

Still, Sherlock whispers into John's ear "I promise. I will try to accomplish the impossible of replicating someone so perfect. I love you so much, John. I will see you again. I love you." His tears are dripping onto John's face but John doesn't mind.

"I will see you soon, Sherlock. I love you, so much..." He closes his eyes. Sherlock Holmes' cry of despair was even more deafening than the admittance that John Watson was dead.