I would have updated tomorrow, but theamatuerartist changed my mind :)
Thank you everyone for reading so far!
At thirty degrees Celsius, the person falls into a coma.
Sherlock was battling to stay awake. He was gritting his teeth in determination and still managing to silently relay information to John. He could only hope that his friend had figured out what he was doing already, because he didn't know how long he could keep this up. Suddenly, with no warning, he felt a trickle of liquid run down his cheek.
No! He thought. Now if I die, John will think I spent the last moments of my life crying… like a baby!
The very thought repulsed him.
He was so cold…
His head drooped forwards sharply, as he lost the energy to support it, and he jerked it back up instantly. Whatever happened, he had to stay awake. Had to… His thoughts were turning into mush… he couldn't –
He growled – well, he could only manage a half whimper – in an attempt to motivate himself enough to keep conscious.
I mustn't – I mustn't –
He closed his eyes involuntarily and could feel reality slipping from him. With barely enough energy left, he reopened them, this time unable to stop his head drooping. He looked up at the camera.
Keep your eyes fixed on it. As long as you're awake, you'll be – you'll be fine… where am I –? Oh, yes – I can't forget – focus – I just need to close my – close my eyes. Just – for a second – N-No… have to – I'll be f-fine –
He could hear John clearly in his head screaming at him in desperation to 'fight it' and 'stay awake'…
Stay…? Awake – away – alive – stay alive? Jim – no – I can't… Can't do it – I need to – close my eyes –
Frantically, the last ounce of determination in his body urged him to keep looking at the camera.
John – John can see me – need to stay a-awake… can't – argh – can't – can't end like this – not… alone –
And suddenly he was falling into a dark abyss as his body gave up the losing struggle. Dimly, he was aware of John's voice at the back of his head. Just one final random line that had somehow overridden all other thoughts.
'Don't be… dead. Just for me. Stop it. Stop this.'
I'm sorry, John.
And the darkness consumed him.
-.-
"FIGHT IT, SHERLOCK!" John was screaming at the screen, gesticulating wildly. Next to him, a rather worried Molly Hooper was watching intently. With no sense of embarrassment, not even noticing Molly's presence, John continued. "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! DON'T GIVE UP! GIVE ME A CLUE! WHERE ARE YOU?! STAY AWAKE! STAY AWAKE! NO! DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES! Please… no…"
His body sagged as Sherlock finally gave up the battle. His fist came down and hit the table. He shook his head dejectedly.
"It's no use. Now there's no way you can give us any clues!" He cried out, clearly talking to Sherlock rather than the young pathologist next to him.
"John..."
"He's such an idiot. Why didn't he give me any clue?"
"Okay, I think maybe you should... you know, calm down for a while."
John seemed to register her for the first time.
"Sorry." He noticed he was apologising too much, and despite the situation, he knew he had to sort out what had happened between them right now, or they would struggle to find Sherlock by cooperating.
He recalled the night when Sherlock had returned to him, seemingly from the dead. How John had been first relieved, then angry, and then relieved again. But once he had found out Mycroft and Molly had both been keeping it a secret from him for so long, he had lost it completely. He had gone first to Mycroft and shouted abuse and then to Molly and had done the same. She'd ended up in tears.
Of course, now he knew better. If anything, he should have vented all of his anger at Sherlock, not just Molly for taking orders.
"Molly, you know that I'm sorry about what happened. I'd never do it again. I'm just... really sorry. Can you forgive me?"
Molly bit her lip and nodded, staring at the ground.
"You were angry. Of course you were going to react that way."
"Yes, well, please don't take it personally."
"Yeah. I think we should be trying to find Sherlock. Why... why have you come to me?"
"I had the police with me, but there was a huge accident and they all left in a hurry."
"I saw the police cars going past."
29.88.
God. What do I do?
"I just thought that maybe you could help. Even if you can't... I don't want to do this on my own."
"I know. Can you tell me what happened from the start?"
John obliged and quickly sketched out everything that had happened that morning. He deliberately left out his personal emotional journey, because that would have taken all day to explain and he valued his own privacy.
Molly listened without interrupting, looking more worried by the second.
"So this can be accessed on any computer?"
John nodded and she left him for a minute to get her own laptop.
Meanwhile, John stared at his, watching the faint rise and fall of Sherlock's chest intently, afraid that it might stop.
Any deductions needed to be made really quickly. Otherwise...
He shivered. And unlike Sherlock, it wasn't from the cold.
