His life fluid pouring out of the gaping wound, whilst frantic hands grasped to try postpone the flow. How had it come to this? Was this destiny, fate? Surely it could not be, such purity shouldn't have to terminate so early. Of course, he was moving on in age, but for them... it had only been a few years. They both cast their minds back to previous events. Things that had altered their lives forever.
"Sorry, who are you?"
"Mycroft Holmes. I do believe you are giving my younger brother work, is that correct?"
"Oh god there's two of you..."
Then the spark ignited. As to be expected, they were not aware at this point in time. This was after all just the beginning for them. From then on, meetings became frequent. Topics of conversation mainly revolved around the younger Holmes. But it wasn't long before they indulged on their own personal lives. It had begun.
Months later, one Gregory Lestrade plucked up the courage to ask him out to dinner. Honoured, and face flushed with embarrassment, Mycroft agreed. Laughing, chatting, hormones flowing, the two realised how joyous they really were. Lust filled gazes became too much in the end, for once they'd ended up in Greg's flat, the two shared a beautiful moment, sealed with a tender kiss. Gradually it became something more, and the rest of the evening was spent moaning and showing their true love for each other.
"Gregory... you mean the world to me, and you pulled me from the horrible life I was suffering. I owe you everything. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So I ask... will you marry me?"
Oh how glorious the ceremony was. Petals lay astray upon the ground, and happiness was radiated from warm smiles and declarations of commitment and love. One of the most cherished moments this is for them, and one that they linger on most whilst the grains of sand fall faster.
Why, oh somebody tell them why this has happened, for they're desperately searching for the answer. It can't be the hand of God which does this to them. Perhaps it is the daemons of Satan. They are not to know the answer. But, are any of us? We search through all of time and space, just to know why... why would such a thing happen? Could they have a little more time? Don't let it be the end.
Nobody was to know of the events that would unfold later on that day. It had been a time for celebration. Five brutally slaughtered children but their murderer locked up behind bars. Another soul tainted with evil had been swept from the streets of London. Outside, the sun shone down on them, whilst they simply stood, moving from one topic of conversation to another. Nothing to even hint towards the darkness that lay in wait for them. Oh but it zoned in on one in particular. But they were never to know...
Greg decided that a short walk should do him good, a moment to breathe if you will. His beloved followed him, and linked their hands, two becoming one. It was quiet, it was beautiful. Words need not be spoken, as they simply stood with each other in content silence. Neither noticed the dark lurking figure up ahead until it was too late.
A single gun shot ran out. Just one. Unfortunately for our dear Inspector, that was all it took. Mycroft stood in shock, unaware of the trajectory path of the fatal bullet. Greg stumbled backwards, and he could not fathom what was happening. A shaking hand reached out towards his stomach, coming away with only the menacing crimson fluid, dripping at a steady pace. Falling to the ground, helpless he now was, he caught the attention of his lover. Were his eyes deceiving him? Dropping to his knees, cradling the one he so loved in his arms, his vision blurred with tears.
"My-Mycroft!" He voice was none other than choked.
"No, no, Greg you're not dying, you're not, you'll be okay!"
The other members of the party had arrived, but it was too late, for dear Greg was growing weak. Sally screamed for paramedics, Sherlock and John rushing about to find some, but it would all be in vain. Gregory was dying, his time almost up. His hand placing pressure upon the wound, desperately in attempt to stop the cruel bleeding.
"S'n-no use Myc..."
"I won't let you die on me! You can't! Please please, you've got to make it!"
The strong body of the Detective began to tremble, he could see the end in sight. Darkness was already reaching at the corner of his vision, trying to pull him into nothingness which awaited him.
"Greg, I love you, please... you can't go..."
"This is it love"
A pained smile escaped him, for he had to try be strong, it would be the last thing he could do for his other half. Mycroft leant down and placed one last kiss upon those lips, in a desperate hope to remember every inch, how they felt beneath his. Anything to hold onto. Greg lifted his hand up to wipe away tears falling from his precious saviour's face. The sand was running out.
"I l-love you Mycroft."
"And I you. Don't you think this is the end! It isn't!"
And with a sad smile his final words were uttered.
"Remember me, p-please?"
"I will never, ever forget you my love."
Gentle eyes finally closed, and a loving heart gave it's last beat. Mycroft crumbled into racked sobs and tears of such sorrow, holding the lifeless body of his cherished one in his arms whilst the world around him faded to black and grey. The warmth of the sun had vanished, and all his happiness drained.
Oh that day, the world had lost a hero, many had lost a great friend. And a lover? He'd lost his heart.