His last breath.

"John Watson is definitely in danger!" Moriarty said in a sing-song voice, circling Sherlock's body, collapsed on the floor of his mind palace, barely breathing.

No Sherlock though, with gasping breaths.

if I'm dead then John won't be in danger. He reasoned, knowing it would break him, but he couldn't lose John because he was too selfish to die.

So Sherlock lost all thought and stayed exactly where he was, where no one could ever bother him.

the heart monitors screamed and the doctors started CPR, getting nowhere.

They stepped back, defeated.

They exited the room and changed from their scrubs in silence.

The doctor approached John in the waiting room, his face masked. he hated this part, telling the family and friends.

John stood up quickly, one sympathetic look was all it took.

" No" he said hoarsely "God no" he repeated. His eyes starting to burn.

" I'm sorry" the doctor said " I'm so so sorry" he gave john a sad smile before continuing "He lost too much blood" he explained.

John sank back onto his chair.

He looked up at the doctor, his vision blurring.

" C-can I s-see him?" John asked, his voice breaking. Dreading what Sherlock would look like, but knowing he had to say goodbye.

The doctor just nodded and led him into the room.

John froze at the door.

Sherlock was lying on the bed. White.

He looked like he was asleep apart from the bullet hole gaping in his chest, chest not rising and falling. His curls were plastered to the side of his face, thankfully not covered in blood like last time. He was lying perfectly straight, arms by his side. A whiter shade of pale.

He was dead.

John collapsed beside him and buried his head in the sheets.

" You idiot" he mumbled.

" W-wake up now Sherlock, come on!" He trembled before sobbing.

His best friend had returned only to be cruelly ripped from him again.

The shooter had just walked in there, shot him and left.

Sherlock hadn't stood a chance.

Mary appeared by the door, tears instantly filling her eyes. Her face paled.

" Oh god" She muttered under her breath.

She straitened up and brushed some of Sherlock's curls back from his pale forehead, and kissed him on the bridge of his nose.

" Goodbye Sherlock" She said, attempting to keep some of her self control.

She lost and started sobbing into her hands

He didn't know how she knew Sherlock had been shot , but he found out he didn't really care.

He got up and embraced his wife, saying nothing. At least he still had Mary.

Their tears mixed.

It was real this time.

And they both knew it.

John didn't know how they got home but he soon found out that once again he didn't care. He was sat down on the leather sofa wishing for more than anything for this to be a dream.

He was staring into space, an arm around Mary as she sobbed into his shoulder. It was worse this time because Sherlock had come back, more human and more of a friend than ever before;

He was supportive of his marriage to Mary,

He calmed them down when they found out about the baby,

He apologized for everything he had ever done,

He saved his life multiple times.

And now he's gone.

A single tear streaked down his cheek.

His best friend would not be coming back.

Not this time.