There was a single bright star shining up in the heavens. Shining so brightly it seemed to diminish all the other light. It looked as though you could reach out and pluck it from the black velvet sky like an enormous diamond.
Sherlock gazed up at the star. It had become the sole point of focus for him over the past hour. It was all he could see. A beacon above the gap in the rooftops.
It was cold. The frost was starting grow in sugary crystals all around him. When they found him, if they found him, the next morning, the ice would surround him like the outline of a body at a crime scene. That made him laugh. Inside. Outside he continued to stare upwards.
The alleyway smelled of urine and vomit. It was Christmas Eve, the season of goodwill to all men and drinking as much as you possibly could was upon the city. This quiet alley was many a late night revellers makeshift lavatory. Maybe not the most charming of places. But it was as good a gutter as any to die in whilst looking at the stars.
Sherlock lay still, pillowed on a spilled bin liner, jeans and t-shirt smeared with someone else's leftovers. But that was fine. It was all food for the rats. And when they did find him, if they found him, he would be another faceless corpse. Just another junkie swallowed by the city. Eaten by the scavengers that survived on London's cast offs.
He didn't feel cold. He didn't feel anything except the beautiful liquid flowing through his veins. He could see everything. He never needed to move again. He could just lay here watching the bright white light above him until the rats ate his eyeballs. And even then, he'd still be able to see that beautiful light. The light he had followed. His very own Christmas Star.
The world was shaking. He was shaking. His star had gone. No more diamond. He opened his eyes. Two cold sapphires looked down at him. He wanted the diamond back. He tried to tell them as he was lifted from the filth of the alley floor. As he was placed on the back seat of a car. You couldn't see stars through the roof of an Aston Martin. All he had left were the sapphires. He could see them in the rear view mirror. He could see daylight pinking the sky outside.
"Happy Christmas Sherlock." He heard his brother's voice say as the light from all the stars went out in Sherlock's head.
