Sherlock was sitting, staring, when Mycroft walked in. It looked as if he hadn't moved in days. Whenever Mycroft asked why he hadn't moved, Sherlock always said he was old and eighty-five year olds shouldn't have to move every day. But, obviously, he was lying.
John was still 'in bed.' The term the Holmes brothers used instead of saying 'in a coma.' It had been this way for months, no change, nothing out of the ordinary. John had no brain activity history from the last month. Nevertheless, Sherlock never left his side. He had started wasting away to nothingness.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft called as he hobbled into the hospital room. His back made cracking noises as he moved. "Get out of this room!" He put a frail hand on Sherlock's tired shoulder. Sherlock's gaze didn't leave the window.
The curtains were shut.
"Come with me… for some tea," Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's hand, desperate to get him out. He would deteriorate if he stayed in that room much longer. But Sherlock wouldn't budge.
"I'm pulling the plug." Sherlock muttered, his voice wheezy and brittle, like he hadn't talked in weeks.
It took Mycroft a second to process this, but when he did, he backed off. He slinked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Sherlock stood and strode over to John's side, his knees clicking. He leant over and kissed John's lips, lightly and gently, one last time.
The door swung open and a doctor and nurse walked in. The nurse stood next to Sherlock and put her arms around him, without objection. The doctor stood next to the machine. The nurse said something about a switch, but his brain wasn't making any connections that didn't involve John.
He reached out his hand and held John's. Lightly, at first, but as everything about John went through his mind, he tightened his grip. It was like John's life was flashing before his eyes, but he couldn't see it, so Sherlock had to. It sped through, lingering only on the moment John yelled no to Sherlock as he fell from the rooftop.
The nurse squeezed his shoulder, bringing him back to reality.
"I'm glad you made this decision, Mr Holmes. Dr John Watson has been down for four years as of today." She nodded to herself.
'Time flies.' Sherlock thought to himself, to John.
The doctor flicked a switch. Sherlock felt the bottom of his gut drop.