Ben awoke; the pain was gone, much to his relief, but there was something that didn't make sense. The sleep didn't leave him refreshed as it usually did. Instead it left him surprisingly exhausted. His flat smelled of iron and urine, a combination, which he never thought could actually exist, and sitting up, Ben figured out the reason why. His head was lying in a pool of his own blood, some spots still glistening like rubies, while the rest was darkening into a faded maroon. But the urine smell wasn't emanating from him, it was emanating from Martin. Seeing his friend collapse into a heap, blood pouring from his mouth, scared him enough that he actually wet himself.

" Some hero." Ben muttered and wriggling out from under Martin, who was stretched across Ben's legs with the laptop beside him; Ben went to get a drink. Pawing through his cupboards, Ben found the bottle of scotch he was saving for a rainy day. He followed finding this by searching for a glass, which was eluding him.

" Don't try it Ben. I have hidden all the glasses and if you would care to notice the bottle is empty." Ben nearly jumped three feet in the air, his thick locks flying upwards to being smashed flat against the shelf with Ben's head. The sudden burst of pain made his eyes water as they tried to follow all the movements of the stars floating in his vision.

" U ghlfhdklhfereohfdofh." Martin sighed. " I can't understand you Ben."

" I said," Ben's head popped like a jack in the box from its confinements." That really hurt you bastard." Martin laughed.

" Well, it seems that you're alright now. Do you know what happened?" Ben shrugged; his broad shoulders seemed to be just a bit smaller as if he was folding in on himself.

" All I know is that one moment I was standing up to go to bed when a sharp pain exploded in my chest and kept growing and growing. I honestly thought I was going to die." The last sentence startled Martin; Ben was frank, he knew that, but this, this was something he had never seen in him before.

" Ben, do you hear what your saying? Its as if you actually want to die." He saw Ben slump forward over the counter, his body even smaller.

" No I don't want to die Martin," He turned and Martin saw the one look he never thought he would see on his friend's face. " But some times you just have to face the facts. Accepting the fact that I am going to die makes it easier to live my ever shorting life."

" But you can't just give up. What was the point of making me look for your girl if you're just going to give up anyway."

" You didn't need to." Ben growled, his ice blue eyes turning even paler with rage. " But I did it anyway and is this how you thank me?" Martin felt the choking flavor of rage at Ben. He had done so much for his friend and now he decides to go back on everything; this wasn't going to fly, Martin was sure of that. Ben was still slumped over the counter, his body moving with every breath he took. Martin felt an overwhelming sense of forgiveness towards Ben burning away any rage he once had for him. As he watched Ben, Martin realized that he was crying, the silent sobs wracking his body. Suddenly he straightened up, his back as stiff as board and turned to Martin.

" I thank you Freeman, but in this case I need to get coffee." He coughed, his voice husky with emotion. Grabbing his coat and the scarf he was given after his first season of Sherlock, Ben walked past his friend and out into the rainy night.