Thanks to Guez Hunter and to Kloryssa for the correction !
Sherlock should have told him.
He had hesitated. Often. Finally saying nothing but the truth.
But, as a Time Lord without TARDIS, what was the point?
Besides, he wouldn't believe him.
… He should have told him that he couldn't die. Not so easily. Not with only one bullet. Not with one shot.
He should have told this so precious friend to take care of himself, to preserve his days. Because he knew too well the ephemeral existence of the humans. He should have told him that he just wanted to stay by his side as long as possible.
He should have said so many things. He kept so many secrets.
Snuggling the dead body of his blogger against his two hearts, the blood had ceased to escape from the wound since hours, Sherlock let a tear flow. A single tear, silent witness of the storming desert who he had turned to henceforth
His doctor was sacrificed himself for him, while he was the one who had to protect the other.
…
He was all alone now. Alone forever, like always.
The humans always are just ephemeral noises around him. It was nothing but a butterfly more who died to his feet. He could handle it.
And, in the silence of the room, a sob resounded between the walls.