It had been half an hour since Moriarty had left Sherlock to rot, who was still down. Sherlock was barely conscieous, but he was strong. He had definitely faced worse, although he was indeed in extreme pain. Sherlock's eyes and face were drained of any color. The nasty, poisonious blood on the floor stood out very much compared to Sherlock's grey face. His eyes fluttered open and red veiled his vision. Once he managed to blink most of it away, he took a look at his right arm, which was unluckily facing to floor the whole time. Which meant that the poison was coursing through his veins. A crimson gash that pulsed with purple ruled down as far as his coat would allow, so down to the middle of his forearm. Not too bad, Sherlock thought.
Sherlock carefully lifted his left hand and moved it to his back. His hand groped around until it found the handle. Slowly, he removed the dagger from his back. A groan left Sherlock's lips as the dagger was pulled out. Breath blew onto the bloody floor and ripples formed again. Flesh was left another hole to seal and blood was a loss again. As soon as Sherlock retrieved the red stained dagger, he examined it. "John H. Watson" was carved in cursive on the fairly new blade. Sherlock sighed. How the name calls to him now. He laid down the dagger and made an attempt to stand up.
But the blood was quickly depleting Sherlock's strength. As he tried to push himself up, he failed and easily knocked against the floor. A huge burst of pain was slammed through him. His cries echoed against the walls and back at himself. Sherlock's mouth hung open as he took heavy breaths. Not a single person would know of his pain except him. And the dead bodies around him simply did not care.
The body began to writhe around and squirm. The heart started to palpitate. The voice shrieked louder and louder no matter how useless and pathetic it was. But the mind. The mind was playing, and replaying, and rewinding all at once. Deleting, inserting, and switching things in Sherlock's hard drive. Memories were tampered. Hallucinations would start. Yet the feelings would be too real. Words and people and events past Sherlock like a fast forwarded slideshow.
Molly Hooper. Reichenbach. Liberty and In. Greg. The bombing. I'll burn the heart out of you. The Woman. Being someone's best friend. Feelings.
Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.