Cold.
He couldn't think anything else than that he was cold.
Too cold.
He was wet and there was snow everywhere.
And he was tired, so tired that he couldn't think properly. He used his hands to drag himself forward. There was tormenting pain on his leg and he could use it.
What happened?
Then he heard something. Some distant voices, but they got nearer.
Someone was yelling, calling someone.
"Sherlock!"
It's me.
"Here." But his voice was barely a whisper. But someone had noticed him.
"There!"
Men running. Sherlock stopped and his head fell, his forehead touching the cold ground.
Tired.
So damn tired.
"Sherlock!"
He lifted his gaze up and saw someone running toward him.
He knew this man.
"Le… Lest…de…" His teeth hit together. He was shaking all over.
"We got you. We got you. You are safe now. My god…"
Sherlock felt how he was lifted up; there was more men, more lights. Something warm around him.
"Has anyone seen him yet? Go to the riverbank! Sherlock, Sherlock, please, focus. Where is he? Was he with you?"
"W…who?"
"John, was he with you?"
"John?" Sherlock asked and looked Lestrade's worried face.
"You went together. Did you get separated? Or was he with you in river? Sherlock, where is John?"
John?
"John… Who is John?"
