Sherlock was lying in the hospital bed, vision blurred and half of it gone. He shut his eyes, tired of staring at the ceiling only to get a new picture. They were in a cab, bright lights of a bus and a shrill laugh as the driver hit the double decker head on. He wasn't sure what happened after that, just waking up in the bed alone and cold.
He felt tears run down his cheek but did nothing to wipe them away. He jumped though when he felt a warm hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw the warm smile of John as the older man looked down on him. However he didn't look as old as he did before. He looked to be in his mid-twenties about now. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John simply shook his head.
"It's okay love," John whispered. He leaned down and kissed his forehead. "You don't have to cry."
Sherlock blinked at him a few times before he noticed that the hand on his cheek wasn't warm, it was ice cold. "John?" he got out, his voice raspy as his body ached.
"Shh, Sherlock," John said, his blue eyes following another tear as it rolled down Sherlock's cheek. "Don't speak, it will only hurt more. I love you, okay?"
Sherlock nodded, he wanted to open his mouth but he found he couldn't. He gave John a sad smile and moved his arm slowly up towards him to touch him but he felt nothing. "I'll see you soon Sherlock," John murmured and kissed his forehead again. Sherlock shut his eyes slowly as he felt the chapped lips of the man over him, sinking into the feeling, memorizing it.
"Don't go," Sherlock whispered, his voice finally working again. He peeled his eyes open and he was alone once more. He chest clenched and his body shook as he started crying, trying his hardest to make time go back.
...
Mycroft stood in front of the two gravestones. The two names had a particular shine to them that no other gravestone had. He looked up staring off into the distance, laughing quietly. He shook his head and turned around, leaving his brother and his best friend behind to sleep.
...
Sherlock watched his brother go, a small smile on his face. "I never thought I would miss talking to him," he murmured, looking over at John.
John smiled and looked to Sherlock. "Yeah, I know how you feel," he said. He reached over to the other gravestone and grabbed Sherlock's hand. "Let's go home."