"You have seven minutes." Said the person, who Anderson had come to know as Him. In the what? Week? Month? He'd been here, no one used names. His train of thought was broken by the floral fabric being removed from his bruised face. Him walked over to the camera on the opposite side of the room.
"Now, Anderson, or should I say, Gillian, I would like for you to know, that this message will be sent to Detective Inspector Lestrade. You have seven minutes to say whatever you want. However. Don't give him our location or anything your tiny little brain might have picked up? Yes?" Anderson didn't say anything. Well, he couldn't, around the gag in his mouth. A cloth that tasted of something sweet and a piece of tape over that, for security. His jaw felt sore from being locked in the same position. Could he even make noise?
Him turned on the camera.
"Greetings, Detective Inspector. (Is that right? Detective inspector?) As you might or, might not know, I borrowed your Anderson. Here he is. Say hi, Anderson." Anderson addressed the camera's presence.
"And, so he can say goodbye to his precious boss, the next seven minutes are his last words." He ripped the tape off of Anderson's jaw in one swift movement. Anderson spat the cloth onto the floor, crudely.
"Uh, well, I would like to first off, tell my wife she's a whore. Second off, tell The Freak that he's not that bad. And to Lestrade, I want to tell you a lot of things. I'm not sure where to start. Firstly, for tolerating, well, me. I can hardly tolerate me and yet for the better part of what? Just on five years, I've almost been able to call you a friend. So, thank-you for that. I also want to tell you something. For the better part of… 2 years, I've wanted to ask you out for coffee. I've nothing to lose now. And yes, I did mean a date. The only thing I'm saying sorry for is not being brave enough to say it sooner." He finished there.
"Nothing else to say?"
"No."
Two shots rang out. One penetrated Anderson's abdomen and the other Him's sprinted forward, to Anderson.
"You know, Anderson said, A minute ago I was telling you how we should go out for a date."
"What?" Asked Lestrade, as he applied pressure to Anderson's abdomen. Anderson pointed to the camera, still recording.
"Told the video. I'm going to die, Lestrade. You know that as well as I do."
"No, said Lestrade, never think like that. You do want to go on that date, right?"
"Ah uh." Anderson whispered, blood trickling down his chin. "Not bloody Captain America. No promises I can't keep."
Lestrade pressed his lips to Anderson's forehead. "This is all my fault."
Anderson shook his head. "None of that. You didn't do this. This is in no way your fault." Darkness slowly crept into the edges of his vision. "You know, when you die, you have about seven seconds of life, where you just relive everything."
Lestrade pressed his lips against Anderson's. "Now you have something to look forward to."
Anderson slumped forward. Lestrade wiped a tear off his cheek. After you die, you seven seconds of life. Anderson spent them in Lestrade's arms.
A/N This is fairly old, Have a sequel in mind. Have a nice day, and thanks for reading.