John and Sherlock exchanged glances and both started running as fast as they could. Sherlock took the backpack with one hand and John with the other and they started running towards the road on the other side of the Eiffel Tower. John took a shuddered breath as he tried to keep up with Sherlock's pace. He looked back and saw that not only did that policeman have a friend but also they'd gotten an entire audience. He heard people whisper Sherlock's name, some people even his and gave those few who he thought he heard say "couple" poisonous looks. He could hear the sound of cameras clicking and it irritated him more than it should have. In a way it was like everything was back to normal.

They arrived at the plaza under the tower and passed all four corners. Just when they got to the road, though, two more policemen cut their path and started chasing them back the way they came from. Sherlock stopped and turned around, dragging John along with him.

"Take it easy, will you?" he muttered inaudibly.

Sherlock ran back to the centre of the plaza but stopped again remembering the two policemen that had originally been chasing him.

Dammit

He looked from left to right, not knowing what to do, when suddenly he had an idea. Sherlock sprinted to the right and headed for the further right corner of the tower, the only one with stairs.

John let himself be pulled along as he still had no idea what Sherlock was up to.

"Excusez-moi, excusez-moi, excusez-moi," Sherlock mumbled while pushing in front of the furious tourists and a security guard checking their tickets. John mouthed "sorry" at them as he looked back. Sherlock let go of him once they were in the staircase and started running as fast as he could up the steps all the way to the first level. Everything was made of metal and the staircase itself had a square shape. The sun shone through the many bars creating linear shadows all over Sherlock's face as he ran up taking two steps at a time. Not too far behind him was John, doing his best to keep up but taking too many breathing breaks for that. About thirty feet under them were the policemen and the security guard, luckily keeping their distance but both John and Sherlock knew that they couldn't keep them away forever.

Beads of sweat started dripping down his face and he quickly rubbed them off with his sleeve. He took deep breaths as he continued to ascend all the way to the first level, continuously checking that John was still with him. He was behind, but not too far.

If Sherlock counted correctly he'd passed about a third of the three hundred steps to the first storey and rolled his eyes as he continued jumping up the metal steps of the iron tower. It was almost making him dizzy to be going up in a spiral like he was at such a speed.

"They're getting closer, Sherlock!" He could hear John's voice coming from under him. Sherlock nodded although he knew John couldn't see him and quickened his pace. He pushed a couple that was slowly walking up to the side and almost fell onto the woman. The man tripped and would've fallen down if John hadn't at that moment also come running up and caught him. Without waiting for a thank you or a rant he resumed running wondering how many of Sherlock's messes he'd find. The metal made a sort of vibrating noise every time he stepped on it. It was a little bit relaxing, but that wasn't what he needed.

"Resistance is useless!" someone said under him in a strong French accent. His speed increased with the sudden rush of adrenaline he got.

Sherlock was already at two hundred steps when he heard the voice. He bit his lip while trying to go even faster than before even though he felt a stitch in his stomach from the sudden running. His legs were aching but he didn't stop. He had to keep going. Sherlock looked through the bars over to the garden where he'd been sitting not ten minutes ago. Just then, a car caught his eye. It drove up to the edge of the garden and stopped. From afar, Sherlock managed to see the license plate while squinting. It was their ride! All they had to do was get back down and get in that car. That wouldn't be too hard, right?

When John finally arrived at the top of the first level, he'd almost caught up with Sherlock. His partner was crossing the level to get to the elevator on the other end. There weren't many waiting there and John presumed that Sherlock had a plan. He passed a couple plants that got in the way of the view and finally managed to be at the same speed as Sherlock. When they were about halfway across the level the policemen arrived too. From the corner of his eye John was sure that he could see loaded guns in their hands. But he couldn't worry about that now, he just needed to keep running and get to the other side. And in that moment, he heard a shriek come from Sherlock.

No, not now. Not here.

The words echoed in his head as Sherlock stopped and tightly held his left wrist. The hammer was hitting it again. Every body part he had was stiff with pain. "Please stop," he mumbled, a single tear escaping his eye. Sherlock was conscious of his situation, but it hurt too much to do anything; it hurt far too much.

John came to a stop when he heard the scream, and turned around and checked Sherlock over.

"Not this again," he muttered to himself, walking over to the taller man. The policemen weren't very far now.

"They're going to get us, we need to go!"

No reaction.

"We have to leave right now, Sherlock!"

Nothing.

"Goddammit, Sherlock, wake up!" John yelled furiously. Just then the policemen stopped, ten feet away from them. One of them aimed a gun at Sherlock.

"Step away from the criminal, Doctor Watson, we need him."

"No, he'll never surrender to you!"

"He doesn't need to surrender."

"No!" Sherlock's eyes opened and he looked to the side a fraction of a second before the gunshot. He just barely saw how John stepped in front of him then fell to the ground.

Sherlock stared down at his friend who was holding his chest, his face lifeless.

"No..." he whispered looking down at the body. He didn't even dare touch him.

"No!" Sherlock screamed with all the power in his voice. He felt the tears stream down his face when the loss of his best friend really sank in. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid when he told John not to come. This couldn't be true, it couldn't be happening. Sherlock closed his eyes and opened them after a couple of seconds to check if he wasn't just dreaming. No such luck, John was still dead. How could John be dead?!

The tears continued to pour out as Sherlock fell to his knees and started sobbing at the body.

"Mister 'Olmes," the French man said, "I assume you will come now that your friend is gone." Sherlock looked up to him and stared at him with a glazed look. He pondered over what he should do for a moment, then hesitantly got up and put his head on his hands.

"In the end, mister 'Olmes, you do not 'ave any friends." Sherlock nodded and followed the policemen who were escorting him to the elevator.

"You think?" came from behind.