"Help me." Sherlock whispered urgently into the pale figure's ear, stroking her dark wavy hair as she trembled in his embrace. "Help me save John Watson."

Eurus raised her head, peeking into Sherlock's icy blue irises with her teary brown ones, asking wordlessly for trust. Sherlock tried to read emotions in them: fear, sadness, desperation, sorrow. He gripped her slim hands as he stood, silently willing his sister to rise with him.

Unsteadily the white-clad figure rose to her feet with the black-clad one, not saying a word as she started hurrying through the rickety floors of Musgrave Hall, her white slippers thumping slightly on the floor as she tugged Sherlock along.

Sherlock followed. He adjusted his earpiece, pressing a finger to his ear as he let out a hoarse whisper. "John? John, we're coming for you." When only a faint static hum sounded in his ear, he pressed his cupid bow lips together and gripped Eurus's fingers harder. "John isn't replying," he warned tightly, "hurry up."

Eurus picked up her pace slightly, taking small but swift steps across the wooden floor. Sherlock strode closely behind her, heart beating erratically. He would never admit this to anyone, but he was worried about John. He needed desperately to find John, save him, and bring him home. He wasn't the only one who needed John, after all—there was Mrs. H, Molly, Lestrade… and little Rosie. Rosie needed her father; Sherlock needed his friend.

Eurus pushed open the double doors with a shove, and lead Sherlock out, her cloth slippers dampening on the wet grass, small feet skimming across ground. Sherlock could see the beech tree in the distance. His breath shortened. He was almost reaching John. "I'm coming, John," he whispered under his breath, letting the whisper be carried away by the wind.

Sherlock could hear police sirens in the distance, and the red and blue lights blazing in the distance. The rapid beat of his heart slowed slightly as he let out a sigh. The police were here. Everything was alright. John was okay.

Eurus tugged on his fingers. They were at the well. Sherlock crouched, pulling his hands from Eurus's grasp and resting them at the edge of the well. He peered in, trying to see John through the darkness in the well. "John!" Sherlock called. "John, I'm here!" His voice resonated down the well, sending echoes. But John did not reply.

Sherlock found a rope near the well, threaded it around a branch, handed one end to Eurus, and tied another to his waist as he took off his coat, shoes and socks. "I'm going to find John," he told Eurus stiffly, hiding his panic with swift tugs on his sleeves and trousers, "pull when I tell you to."

Eurus nodded, and gripped her end tightly against her chest. As Sherlock lowered himself into the well, he almost laughed nervously at the irony. Trusting John's captor with his own life. Isn't that ironic. His feet touched icy water, and his calves were soon soaked. He reached down, grabbing blindly, and felt an arm. John's arm.

Sherlock held on to John's arm tightly and shouted up. "Eurus, pull!"

To Sherlock's surprise, Eurus's feeble arms had great strength. With a few strong pulls, Sherlock was collapsed on the grass with John's limp figure sprawled over him, breaths heavy, pulse erratic. Lestrade stood over them, peering at Sherlock anxiously.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade cautiously knelt and clumsily shifted John's weight into his arms so Sherlock could stand. "Are you alright?"

Sherlock dusted off himself and wobbled to his feet. "I'm alright… what of my sister?"

"We had to take her away to Sherrinford. Sorry, Sherlock." Lestrade looked at the ground.

"And… what of John?"

Lestrade did not reply.

Sherlock knelt next to the limp wet figure on the grass and felt his already faded pulse. Disbelief was written plain on his face as he clutched the figure close to him, trying to warm John's freezing cold body with his own body warmth. "I was so… sure… I was in time…"

Lestrade touched his forehead and let out a sigh. "You know… you were so close. The water was only over his head. It was only deep enough to just drown him."

Happy Chinese New Year, people out there! It is currently 21:55 in China as I am typing this, and two hours and five minutes until it is officially the Year of the Chicken!

This was an inspiration from S4E3 when Eurus says something like "In all your dreams... deep waters..." and I actually panicked when she was going to drown John. So I made it a tragedy! I do apologize for the shitty chapter, though.

I have one more prompt from Thilbo4Ever which I will write out, and another one from Guest which I racked my brains to write but sorry, I can't. I really think it's sort of weird for Sherlock to die at the hands of his best friend, and John is a doctor. I am quite sure he knows his own strength. No offense, though! I don't write Dark!stuff, but it would be a good prompt for that!

The response to guest Mike that I wrote in the A/N (aka previous chapter 10), I directly quote myself: I am not sadistic. I simply enjoy a good tragedy where you don't live 'happily ever after' lives. (BORING, Sherlock would say.) Thanks for your support though, and this is based on the BBC series. I do recommend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original, though. Even if he is sort of mixed up. It was he who had the original idea, after all.

I'll be in Greece for about ten, eleven days, starting Feb 1st. But I'll try to update one more time before winter vacation ends!

Happy Year of the Chicken, and peace out!

-Ctenophore.D