Sherlock wasn't breathing right.
John knelt on the cold earth, holding the detective in his arms and trying desperately to keep him there.
Keep him lucid.
"Come on, Sherlock—look at me, god-dammit! You're not doing this to me! Not after all that!"
Sherlock jerked and flinched slightly, struggling to draw another painful breath. Every inhale sounded tight and difficult.
Too much.
John was barely even aware how much of his friend's blood was soaking into his shirt as held him—he didn't care.
He couldn't think about that.
A damp, dark curl fell over the detective's brow, and he turned his eyes to look up at John. Pale, cold intensity; pinpoint pupils.
Pleading.
"You are not dying on me—do you hear me, Sherlock?! Don't you dare leave me like this! Please—"
Every wince was agony.
Every second an eternity.
Sherlock's lips parted, and his voice was ragged and breathless, raspy and tortured. "I'm sorry..."
"No. No, don't say that! You're not going anywhere! You're staying right here with me, understand?!"
"I'm... not ready..."
"I know you're not—just hold on! The ambulance will be here soon. Please... please..." John could feel hot tears welling up behind his eyes, like a dam that threatens to burst when the locks fail. "Sherlock..."
He couldn't let himself cry.
Not in front of Sherlock.
Not like this.
But...
He could feel Sherlock tense up again, and listened to him drag in another breath.
He was trying.
He looked up at John, using all his energy to focus, to stay sharp. "I..." Sherlock flinched again, widening his eyes in a desperate bid to stay. "I... don't want the game to be over, John..."
John tried to speak, but he couldn't. He could only grit his teeth and shake his head, his fingers gripping the detective's wrist.
Feeling that pulse.
Weak and fast.
A breath in, a breath out.
Inhale, exhale...
Then...
...Soft silence.
The tenseness in the shoulders finally relaxed, and suddenly the body he was holding was no longer Sherlock.
No longer his best friend.
Sign out.
John couldn't breath. He couldn't feel. He couldn't comprehend.
It could not be.
There was no way, after everything they'd been through, that this could be...
But it was.
Goodbye.
Farewell.
Game over.