Chapter 20

Sherlock stared at the Detective Inspector, seeming unperturbed by the news. He opened the door wider, allowing him to enter, much to Mycroft's displeasure. Lestrade avoided eye contact with the older Holmes brother and sat down on the couch.

Sherlock brought over the tray with tea and placed it down on the table. Lestrade helped himself and poured his own cuppa. Sherlock sat down on his computer chair, his finger tapping lightly against his temple.

"Repeat what you said." Sherlock instructed.

Lestrade put the cup down and clasped his hands together. "James Moriarty's dead. We found him in an alley, shot to death."

Sherlock turned to Mycroft, whom had his eyes closed. "Did you know about this?"

"No." Mycroft responded.

Sherlock frowned at him suspiciously. "But you always know." Sherlock whispered under his breath.

"What's that?" Lestrade asked, cocking his head to the side.

Sherlock waved it off. "Don't worry about it."

"...you can come to the morgue and look at the body, if you'd like." Lestrade suggested, carefully observing Sherlock.

Sherlock remained quiet before standing up. He was definitely going to the morgue. "I'm going to check in on John."

Sherlock left the room, leaving Mycroft and Lestrade.

Sherlock entered the shared bedroom and knelt next to John, whom was still soundly sleeping.

"John?" Sherlock whispered, lightly touching his mate's face. John wasn't disconcerted by the touch. "John..." Sherlock's voice called out again softly.

This time, John's eyes fluttered opened.

"Sher-Sherlock? Are you...are you m-kay?" He mumbled, half-asleep.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, yes I'm fine." Sherlock whispered, cupping John's face, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb. "I just came to tell you that I'm going to the morgue, okay?"

John frowned, his eyes showing concern. "Why? What happened?"

"I'll tell you when I get back." Sherlock promised.

John didn't speak for a while, his eyes blinking as he breathed in deeply. "Can I come with you?"

"Don't you want to rest for a little while longer? It's still quite early." Sherlock said.

"Please, Sherlock." John begged, and Sherlock stared at him uncertainly but he didn't want to disappoint John.

Reluctantly, Sherlock nodded. "All right. I'll help you wash up."

Sherlock helped John get ready and once John was prepared to leave, they went back to the living room where Lestrade was quietly sobbing into Mycroft's shoulder.

John looked particularly curious at the scene in front of them.

"Are they...?" John's voice trailed off.

"It's complicated." Sherlock concluded.

Lestrade noticed Sherlock and John's presence and immediately started to recover.

"We'll meet you at the morgue." Sherlock told them, and they left the flat.

Sherlock hailed a cab and helped John inside. He instructed the cabbie to the morgue and once they were there, they left themselves in.

All was eerie and quiet in the morgue. Not a single sound could be heard. The hallways were brightly lit due to the many windows that aligned the walls. Sherlock helped John down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his waist. John clung to Sherlock's side, his hand gripping the back part of Sherlock's coat.

Sherlock pushed two double doors opened and walked into the room where the deceased were examined and locked away.

Molly Hooper was next to a deceased man, whom's face was covered with a white sheet. She was putting gloves on when she noticed Sherlock and John enter.

"Hello Sherlock, John," Molly greeted shyly.

Sherlock half-smiled. "Good morning."

"Gregory said you might be stopping by. I didn't think it would be so early." Molly admitted.

"Lestrade said that James Moriarty died." Sherlock said directly.

Molly pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Sherlock approached her, John still clinging onto him. "May I take a look at the body?"

Molly swallowed and nodded. "He's on that table."

Sherlock went to the table, but John couldn't follow.

"Here, I'll get him a chair." Molly suggested, reaching for John's hand.

Sherlock pulled John closer to him defensively. "No, I've got him."

"It's okay, Sherlock," Molly said. "he needs to sit down."

Without glancing back up at Sherlock, Molly found John a chair and escorted him to it. He sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. Molly stood next to John a dozen meters away from Sherlock and both of them observed him as he inspected the body thoroughly

"How are you doing, John?" Molly murmured, low enough so Sherlock wouldn't hear.

John shrugged. "Weaker, I suppose."

Molly frowned in worry. "You aren't going to the doctor's?"

John looked down, pursing his lips. "I don't want to."

Molly nodded in comprehension. Whatever John decided to do, it is his decision and he has good reason as to why he does what he was. He's an intelligent man and an ex-army doctor. He should know what he's doing.

After a few seconds of silence, Molly noticed John's worry lines. "You're worried." She stated.

"Of course I'm worried." John whispered. "I don't know what he'll do when I'm gone."

Molly knew that without treatment, John will never survive this stage. He's slowly dying, allowing himself to be swallowed whole by cancer cells. He's already incredibly thin, frail and pale. It won't be long before John isn't able to walk. And if John dies, Sherlock wouldn't be able to handle it. Molly knew Sherlock wouldn't be able to live without him. She understood their bond.

"It will be okay, John. I'll look out for him." Molly promised, resting a hand on his shoulder.

John nodded once. "Thank you, Molly."

John and Molly stared at Sherlock in silence for a few moments.

"He's a special one, isn't he?" Molly queried quietly.

John smiled. "Yeah, he is...I'll miss him."

Molly looked at John, tears forming in her eyes. It's horrible seeing two people you've known for a while suffering in silenced pain and knowing there is nothing you can do about it but standby and be there to comfort. It was worse seeing two people - two incredible people - be the ones to suffer. It isn't right; this world. Neither of them ever deserved the hatred from others, the rumours much less cancer!

"Sorry." Molly apologized, wiping away a tear that managed to escape her eye.

John looked up, his brown eyes blank. "Don't cry, Molly. It's nature."

Molly smiled sadly, sniffling as she wiped away more tears. "Nature's cruel."

"Yeah." John agreed.