Sherlock was passing his old flat.
The flat in which his best memories were shared with John.
He lowered his head, his coat collars cover memorable parts of his face.
He passed the flat, 10 paces from the door.
"bang"
Sherlock sharply turned and dashed towards the door.
He
Sherlock turned the door knob slowly.
He saw a body. John's body.
John's dead body.
A puddle of red blood stained the floor, it was moving forward, moistening whatever got in its way.
Johnt have to look at Johns heart nearly stopped beating.
"I was coming back... John"