There was no sound. Just the faint cry which rebounds against the walls of the alley. A cry to a friend, a partner, easily mistaken for that of a lover. Two lifeless bodies lay crumpled on the cement. Fallen. Rain pours, making a river of red flow down the side walk. It is almost peaceful, a suspension in time, but it is soon disturbed by the sirens. Lights flash, vechiles circle around, blocking off the area- standard procedure.
And, it is now that he sees the lights. Hand still crushing his mobile, the screen cracked. Though, it still illuminates the last text that was sent only twenty-three minutes ago... His body is no longer connected to his mind, and he comes running, breathlessly to the blockade. They see him, and instinctively hold him back, but it is not enough. He moves through, pushing past them as if a ghost. He catches a glimpse of brown curls, and the deep serenity of disbelief collapses in on him.
"I'm a doctor! I'm his doctor!" he yells, though it comes out as little more than a whisper. He hears no response, only the echo of his own words repeating in his mind. A body is pushed past him on a stretcher, the sheet upon it staining pink. His heart takes a desperate lurch, a plea, that it cannot be him. And a gloved hand falls from under the sheet, reaching out, even after death... Almost waving in the sway of the rushing paramedics.
Moments blurr. There is sounds, but none that he can hear. He is only looking for one. Only one voice, a deep murmur. He stands back home, in the dry room, much in contrast to the drenched blanket wrapped around his arms. The door closes. And it is almost as if nothing has changed. It's morning again. He better make a pot of tea before his room-mate awakes... The only visible change, here, is the drenched man, himself.
"Sherlock?" he whispers, listening, keenly, but hearing nothing at all. Only dead silence. Even his own echo can not be heard. His glances down at his numb fingers, looking upon the cracked screen of his mobile.
Still legible. He can read it, but never hear it again. He crushes the sight of the letters, too numb to feel the glass that pierces his skin. And as a single drop, of red blood falls, and soaks into the carpet... He can hear it.
"John."
And he too falls.