There's Magnussen, and nothing about him speaks to John, and it's the worst feeling everything, a void where there should be the occasional whisper, and he's afraid of what that means. Because if he's as bad as Sherlock says he is, and John has no reason to doubt him, then the man should practically be bursting with talkative objects.

The silence is unsettling, and the man's actions do nothing to negate it.

He doesn't take his gun when they go that evening to his office, and it whines at him that it wants to come. He tells it no, and puts it back in the closet before going to meet Sherlock.

Sherlock goes and proposes, to Janine of all people, and the ring won't say anything to John, even though he's sure it's full of secrets, or maybe truths.

But when they get up there, it's all a ruse and she's unconscious, and Sherlock races off and gets himself shot, and John isn't sure if he'll ever be able to breathe again if Sherlock dies for good.

He blocks out everything except for the ambulance siren off in the distance and the sound of Sherlock's raspy breaths. He doesn't want to hear what anything has to say.

Sherlock's still alive when they get to the hospital, and he's still alive when he goes to surgery, and he's still alive how many hours later when the surgery is over and he's still alive. It's more than John could wish for.

When he's waiting for Sherlock to wake up in the hospital, the equipment is whispering amongst themselves.

I heard he coded, the IV stand says.

The heart monitor confirms.

The IV port in his neck speaks up.

Yes, he did. It was close. They were about to give up. But then... it trailed off.

"What?" John asks faintly. "What do you mean they were about to give up?"

The IV port doesn't respond.

John sighs, and buries his head in his hands. Sometimes, he thought it would be better if he couldn't hear them.

Or maybe if they at least spoke back when he asked.

He wonders if the surgeons would let him see the bullet, because they likely pulled it out. There was no exit wound, so it had to be inside him, and unless it was lodged in his spine, they would have taken it out. Right?

(He'd ask the various items in the room what they thought, but it was clear they didn't want to speak to him.)

Because maybe if he saw the bullet, he could get something, anything from it. Where it came from, who shot the gun.

Who shot Sherlock.

But he's not sure he can do that right now, track down a gunman while Sherlock lays half dead, alone in a hospital bed.

And he's not sure if he can resist the temptation, if he does find out.

John doesn't know what to do, so he just takes Sherlock's hand in his own again, and double checks his phone to see if Mary called him back.

(She hasn't.)