What is this? I feel... Hollow. Am I actually feeling emotion? I look over at John, we're in the carriage that turns out to be a bomb and I don't know how to defuse it. What is this? My eyes are tingling. Moist. My vision is blurred, are they tears? I feel my lungs struggle to take air as I try to calculate what to do. My mind palace is useless. I'm useless. So much for being dead for two years. I reunite with John and now I'm really going to die. What is this? And over whelming feeling. But what feeling? Oh. So this is sadness.

"John" I mouth. Why has my voice failed? "I'm so sorry" I breath. Why does my voice betray me? "I'm so, so sorry" I find myself repeating those words. My God I can't think straight, can't see straight.

"John" He finally looks at me and I understand everything. I actually meant something to him. What have I done? He glares at me, I try to breath but my watery eyes just stare into his. I know he's shouting and ranting like always, but I couldn't hear it. Not over all the people I failed to save, I need to switch this bomb off, but how? I've never done this before. A noise erupts from my throat, unable to stop myself I realize my humanity is taking control. NO! I can't become weak, not when so much depends on me... No... I've got to save John. The whole of London can wait, John needs to survive. HE'S GOT A FAMILY NOW! I can't... I... I can't... I hit my fist on the car floor

"I have to" I whisper. Sticking my head inside the whole I scan every inch of the bomb system. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!

"Ahhh!" I shout. What is this? Remorse? No. It's too powerful. Anger. I should have died. If I did die, John would be happy, getting married, having kids. He'd have a life. I shouldn't have met him. He felt so right, but I was wrong. Over the two hard years of being away from him I have never felt so lost and alone, as soon as I saw him in that restaurant I was complete again. Then he didn't look at me. And when he did, I knew he would hate me. I didn't realise how much I meant to him when he reacted.

"John I can't do it" I sob. Sob? Am I crying? I feel water stroke my cheek. I am. This must be it. Dear God.

"John" I whisper

"I forgive you, Sherlock"

"We're going to die" I lean against a chair, unable to hold my body

"No" John stumbled and sat beside me

"We're not going to die if we have each other" I look at him, his deep blue eyes are alive, I see my pale eyes staring back- swimming in salt water. No wonder why they sting.

"John" I whisper, taking his hand

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes" I felt incredible warmth and belonging flood through me, despite my deep despair. What is this? What is this?

Then there was nothing.