"How long?"

John mumbled an inaudible answer. Sherlock clenched his fists and repeated with more force. "John, how long?"

"... One or two more days, if I'm lucky."

Sherlock's breath hitched. "One or two days? But they've only just diagnosed you!"

"No, Sherlock," John whimpered. Softly, but Sherlock still heard it through the cell phone's speakers. "They gave me an estimate a few months ago."

"A few months? And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't want to-"

"Didn't want to what, upset me? John, you could have at least let me know so that I didn't waste your time! You could have done so much in the time you had, and here I went and wasted it dragging you along on cases." He threw his free arm about in a wild gesture, though no one was around to see it.

"Sherlock."

"I mean, honestly John! You could have traveled around, visited family, done so much more than listen to me talk for hours about these murders and-"

"Sherlock!" John cried. "I would much rather say my… goodbyes in person, if it's all the same to you."

The consultant detective ripped his coat from the wall. "Of course, John. I'll be there in a few minutes."

…

John grabbed his friend's hand weakly. "Hello, Sherlock."

Sherlock squeezed tenderly and choked back a bitter sob. "Hello, John."

"I guess this is just about it, hm?" John's head rolled back. "I'm going to miss solving cases with you."

"I know, John. It won't be the same without you," he shook his head. "What about poor Mrs. Hudson- what will she do when you and I are no longer staying in 221B?"

"Sherlock, you aren't going to leave the flat, are you?"

"How can I stay somewhere that isn't home?"

John frowned. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know, John," he sighed. "I don't know."

John reached a hand up and clutched Sherlock's scarf. "Please, Sherlock, don't go..."

Sherlock blinked back tears. "Of course not, John. I'll stay."

John smiled gently and closed his eyes. "Good."

…

Sherlock's eulogy at John's funeral was short. He didn't cry over his friend's casket (though he did hold Mrs. Hudson as she did), nor did he cry over the grave. He simply went home, lay on his friend's chair, and thought over all that had happened to him.

He wasn't sure how he was going to cope without John.

That night, he almost took his life, but thought better of it. John wanted him to stay.

So, stay he would.