"JOHN!"

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could barely see. He only saw colors. He could feel, though. Oh, and he could hear. He could hear his ragged gasps as nothing entered his lungs, he could hear his shattered yell of- of what? Pain? Grief? He couldn't tell. The agony was astounding.

"JOHN!"

Oh, and he could hear that. Who was that?

Thump. Thump. Thump. "JOHN?!"

The beating, he could hear the beating, what was beating?

"JOHN!"

The voice. And the thump. Thump. Thump. And the ragged gasps, and the roaring in his ears, the rushing, screaming, echoing in his ears. He brought his hand up from where it lay on the ground- sticky, his hand felt sticky, and it was shaking, why was it shaking?

"JOHN! JOHN, ANSWER ME!"

Shaking… trembling, his hand, his whole arm was trembling, he couldn't hold it still, it was sticky, his wrist was sticky and it was wet, why? He could taste the sharp salt in his mouth, his mouth was dry and he couldn't breathe, why? He brought his hand, his shaking hand, up to his chest, it was sticky, too, it was sticky and wet and he could hear the roaring in his ears and the thumping that was slowing down but it hadn't stopped yet and he couldn't really feel anything, his whole body was separate, numb, and he could only see colors-

"JOHN WATSON! JOHN!"

The voice, there was the voice again, who was it? Why was it echoing, it was faint, so faint, and he couldn't… he couldn't hear it very well, there was something in his ear, rushing, pounding in his head, and even though he couldn't breathe he let out a yell, a scream, a shriek and it just rang in his ears, the ringing, the agony, the roaring, there were too many noises and his head was spinning.

"JOHN?! JOHN! JOHN, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

His chest was sticky, and he could feel the thumps more than he hear them, now, the roaring in his head was getting softer, his chest and his shoulder were sticky, which shoulder was supposed to hurt?, and his hands were both shaking, now, and he didn't even bother with his legs, he couldn't, didn't want to, didn't feel like doing that but he felt the black dancing at the edge of his vision, he only saw colors, and he saw black and burgundy and grey and red and… was that blue?

"JOHN!"

Blue… blue, it was light blue, it was- it was dark blue, why was there dark blue? There wasn't any, he was blonde, he was wearing…. Why did it matter? What was he wearing? There was blue, it was his jeans but his legs didn't matter, the thumping was getting louder again, it was slower, the roaring in his ears made it silent, made it deafening, made everything echo, he could hear and feel nothing and everything all at once. There was more black, too, and his head hurt, and was he breathing?

"JOHN!"

There it was, there was a name, no, not the name in his ears, the name in his head, could he say it? He couldn't breathe, there wasn't air, he didn't have lungs, he didn't have blood and his chest was sticky and wet and his hands were shaking. Could he?

"Shh-shh-s-lll'ck-" he coughed, and oh, it hurt, he was in anguish, in torture, and now, now he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even make the motions because his chest, his lungs, his whole body was being ripped apart, did he have energy, he couldn't see, it was red, all red and black and it hurt-

"JOOOOOOHN!"

He choked and coughed and spluttered and even though he couldn't breathe-

"SHERLOCK!"

His hands were shaking and he was scared and he couldn't breathe and now his head was sticky, too, and his face was sticky and wet all over and it burned and it was freezing and the air in his lungs was nonexistent and there was this pounding in his head and his neck and his arms and it made his hands tremble and he raised the one over his chest to move it back down so he could roll over and doze off, because he was tired, so tired, why was he tired? He was alive, sparking with energy, he could feel it, his hands were tingling like pins and needles and he couldn't feel his feet so he just needed to rest but suddenly he couldn't move his hand… and he tried to lift it off of his wet and sticky chest and he could barely see, it was clouded, cloudy, and he raised his hand-

And it was grabbed and his whole world gave a whoosh as it blared back into focus and the ringing in his ears shrieked like a thousand bells and he roared with pain, his back arched and his head dug into the ground and he screamed because he was on fire and it hurt and something was holding his hand and he couldn't breathe and he choked on this useless air, and he was deaf but not blind but he was dizzy and tired, so, so tired, and he looked and there was a hand holding his hand, he only had two hands? And the ground, the walls, the air was wet and sticky and he looked up and- and- and it was Sherlock, there, holding his hand, why was he here?

"John- Joohnn, John, don't- don't move, don't worry, don't move, be still, be calm, stay awake- John, look at me, John, come on, John, no- no- don't- look at me- look at me-" and suddenly it was his eyes, Sherlock's eyes, right in front of his, and they were wide and they were glossy and bright and white and blue, and- oh, god, had they always been that blue?

He still couldn't breathe but he stared dizzily up into the blue of those eyes and his hand was sticky and wet and there was a new hand, a cool hand under his head and it lifted him up and he opened his mouth to yell and to breathe but he couldn't and his chest was being wrenched apart and he wasn't on fire anymore, no, he was just being split and there was a knife in his chest and it was being twisted and he was being torn apart from the inside out and the blue was fading to red and black but-

"JOHN! John, no, John, look at me, look up, stay awake, stay still, come oonnn, they're on the way, they're almost here, John, stay awake, John, no- NO, John, look at me, John,"

"S-shhh-shh-" the wet and sticky bubbled up in his throat and he coughed and saw red but looked at the blue eyes who were looking at him and he had to ask, why? It wasn't important, but, "Shh-shh-"

"No, John, don't- don't try to-"

"Shhhh-sh-Sherl-Sherlock- am I…. am I dying?" There was air, but there wasn't, and he couldn't breathe but he tried but everything was wet and sticky and the air got stuck but he had to know the answer but why? Why was he asking?

"John, don't- don't ask that, you're- you're-"

"O-obviously." Why did he ask? It was obvious. Was it? Why was his voice shaking? Obviously. It was funny. It was funny, and he laughed, but the laugh bubbled up with the wet and sticky and he saw red again and the eyes looked away and the blue was gone but he needed the blue-

"John, don't-"

"Well, iffff- if I'm-mm dying, then-" he coughed, and there was the red, but the blue stayed, and he went on with another sticky, red laugh-

"then pl-pllll- please, God, let me live. L-l-" there was more coughing, but why, was there something in his throat? He couldn't breathe, he didn't need to, he was just tired, but tired meant black and he wanted the blue, that bright, spectacular blue…

"John, no, don't say that, they're almost here, you're- you're not going to die, John, do you understand? John! John? You're not going to die!"

"Shh-shhhh-she-" He coughed again, he was coughing so much, but he made it stop, and his mouth filled with red and sticky and his face was wet and sticky but the blue stayed and the hand under his head stayed and the hand in his hand stayed and he raised his other hand, it was shaking, and he raised it up to the blue and put one finger to Sherlock's mouth, he was talking too much right now, he just wanted to sleep.

"Shhh- Shhhh- Sherlock- Mm- 'M fine- it's okay, it's," he slurred, and the black danced up to the blue, and he heard something else now, this steady roar and a wail and a ringing again, what was that? He could feel, he could feel this thing in his chest and it didn't quite burn but it tortured him and he couldn't breathe-

"J-jus-just… a bit n-not good." He laughed again, it was funny but why was he laughing? It was a deep, scarlet, sticky laugh but the blue stayed and his hand dropped down because he was tired, he was so, so tired, could he just rest?...

"J-Johhhhnn, John, no, John, come on, John, stay awake, it's okay, it's okay, you're going to be fine, they're here, they- John, they're right here, and they're going to help you, John, they'll help you- John? John?! JOHN! John, help me, John, don't- you'll be fine- John, stay awake. John? John Hamish Watson, do NOT close your eyes! JOHN!"

And he heard this and he tried and he kept his eyes looking at the blue but there was a noise, another noise, and it was a wail and a rush of all these new sounds and he just shut them out and tried to breathe and kept looking at the blue and the pain… the pain, where was the pain, was it gone? It… no, it was there, but it wasn't, it was fading, and the black was dancing, dancing right up to the blue, but the blue got bigger, it was right there, and there was this cool air on his mouth, gently fanning his face, could he breathe? He tried, and he couldn't, but he wanted to try again, and he was supposed to stay awake and not close his eyes, were they open? He couldn't tell but he could see the black and blue but then they were gone, suddenly, and sounds came rushing back and there was this screeching wail and voices and shouting and the noise, there was so much noise, but where was the blue? The blue, the magnificent, vibrant blue, where was it? He tried to look around but his head was stuck and it was wet and sticky and his chest was wet and sticky and- where was the hand? There was no hand in his and there wasn't one under his neck and he wondered where they were and-

"Shh-" he tried to talk, tried to get the blue, but he couldn't, couldn't breathe, couldn't move, but he had to have the blue because he was told to NOT close his eyes but why would he keep them open if there was no blue?

"Shh-Sh-'lock-ck-" and the pain hit again and his chest was ripped to shreds and he couldn't do anything but writhe in agony but he couldn't move and he had stopped breathing and there were noises and they were back, oh, the blue was back and was it all really blue? No, there was green, but it wasn't green, there were flecks of green and there was white and black but not the other black that was still dancing on the edges but he could keep his eyes open because now there was a reason, right?

"John- John, I'm here, it's okay, you're going to be fine, we're going to the hospital, it's okay, y- you'll be fine, don't worry, don't worry," and the voice was muffled because there was this thing on his mouth and it pushed into him and it suffocated him and he gasped for air and he could inhale and exhale but he couldn't breathe because it hurt and there was a prick in his wrist and he wanted the hand, not this thing on his arm, but the thing stayed and the hand came and it wrapped itself around his and he sighed in relief because now he was scared, was he going to die?

"John, don't worry, just breathe, John, it's okay, you'll be fine, John, you'll be fine- John? John! John, look at me, look at me, listen to me, John, breathe! Breathe, and for God's sakes, STAY AWAKE, JOHN! JOHN?! JOHN, NO, JOHN!"