He didn't know how many they were or how they had managed to sneak up seventeen stairs without him noticing. He fervently hoped for Mrs. Hudson to be out or fast asleep because he couldn't bear to think anything else.
He was sure Holmes was not in the flat; otherwise he would not be choking to death, reprieved of precious air with something as plebeian as a fluffy pillow. Both his shoulder and back hurt like the devil due to old and recent injuries and the sudden and desperate strain he was submitting them, his mind was dulling, his chest in agony.
It didn't lasted much, for a strange drowsiness started to spread from his head, and half aware that he was fading quickly. He could only think of his beloved Mary; she calling him already. However something was not alright with the voice, it sounded too deep, almost like a man's…
Before anything else could be processed, the looming darkness took over.