Writing this made me cry but I do hope you enjoy it! I've written two chapter in a day and I'm starting the third right now! Only because otherwise I won't be able to post until next Friday :O

Rescue IIIIIIII

My heart stopped. I could feel my blood run cold and my pulse run miles. My eyes widened and my jaw fell as my hand began to tremble. I watched in utter horror and fear as Holmes began to back up so that his back was against the veranda concrete fence and send me a look of complete apology and sincerity.

HOLMES!

My mind had screamed. It told me to move, to run, to stop this, but I was frozen. I looked so deeply into his sad, apologetic eyes and forced my own eyes to stay open as he closed his for the final time. His feet had slid of the ground along with Moriarty's as they both fell over the barrier. My mind processed what was happening quickly and in a second's time I was exactly where they were a moment ago, but all I received was a loud splashing of what had to be icy almost frozen water.

"HOLMES!" I yelled, but it was to no avail. He was gone, and I was too late. He was gone because I was too late. My hands clutched the hedge until my knuckles turned a deathly pale white. I felt my heart shattering into a million pieces, most of it crumbling down to its demise with Sherlock. My eyes began to water my orbs were still wide. I only continued to stare at the ravaging falls beneath me... being able to do nothing else. I was not even able to move or twist my stare onto another place- because I'll I saw was Sherlock Holme's death, and so that was what I continued to see. My nails and fingers dug into the concrete so hard that I felt warm blood trickling down their edges, no doubt staining the enclosure.

But I didn't care right now.

Not about anything.

Put a circus next to me, I wouldn't notice. Make the orchestra play their loudest piece, I wouldn't notice. Thrust a gun into my skull and threaten to fire, my eyes would still be locked into the wretched sight of where the greatest detective of all time fell to his death, along with the most evil and twisted criminal. Holmes had brought him down, it was what he wanted- but it had come at a price. Why? Why did he have to be so damned heroic! Why couldn't he just let the filthy scoundrel get away for once! We've already stopped the war! Why did he have to give his own god damned life for it!

I felt tears gather at my eyelashes but again, I could not bring myself to move an inch. My hands were still fisted around the sharp concrete edges so firmly they had begun to go numb. In fact, my entire body had begun to go numb. Whether it was of the overwhelming pain of watching my best and closest friend die because I was too late to save him, or of the immense snow and cold, I did not know. Nor did I care.

I took absolutely nothing into account. I wanted nothing more than for Sherlock to climb over the edge of the veranda, having held on whilst the other madman crumbled to his death, and treat it as nothing but a sick twisted joke. I wanted nothing more than to know that he was alive...

At this moment, fire a bullet into my chest and I would find it only to hard to believe that it mattered. My knees threatened to buckle, but I managed to stay upright, my will to do so however was decreasing rapidly.

My mind knew it was over. I knew, logically, that Moriarty was gone- dead. And I knew logically that so was Holmes, for he w ate one who brought him to his death himself. But my heart though- well that was something completely different.

My heart shook and trembled at the thought of losing my confidant- my brother. I would break over and over again whenever I thought about never being able to see him again.

I wanted to do nothing more at the damned moment than to collapse to my knees, crawl into a dark corner and- cry. Holmes would have had a laugh about that one I'm sure. I could almost hear his voice rung in my ear telling me not to be so 'absurd'.

I released a hitched, pathetic breath as I was unable to stop more tears from flowing through my orbs down to my cheeks and past my chin. Again, I couldn't mind any less and ignored them. I closed my eyes for a short moment and thought about what just happened, for I was still unable to register everything...

Holmes was gone.

He died saving all of Western Civilisation.

The thought of him being remembered s a hero made me chuckle darkly. He wouldn't want that, for whatever reason, I would never know. But what I do know is that even though he wouldn't or more so couldn't care a single bit less, he would be missed.

I only wished he didn't have to be.

I would give literally anything just for him to miraculously appear beside me and laugh and poke jokes at me for how much of a wreck I've become in just a few short minutes.

I had to move, to get out of the cold or I would freeze to death, I knew that all too well. But for some reason, my limbs had become unresponsive as had my mind. I kept uncontrollably playing over the distressing look in his large chocolate orbs... another crystal tear slid down my face and finally, my fingers begun to unclutch the barrier.

I moved my hands back, but what I didn't notice was that without the barrier I would have no support what to ever. My knees began to fall beneath and I would have hit the ground if it were not for the arm that clutched my shoulder and kept my upright.

I turned in surprise and saw Mycroft beside me. His eyes were filled with poignancy and a pure heart-rending touch. I watched as I single tear glided down the side of his face, yet like me just before, he did nothing to remove it. He released a sigh and forced himself off the heart-wrenching sight and I was sure he had cleared his mind off the tragic demise of his younger brother.

What happened next wasn't what I had expected.

He cleared his throat and without so much as a second glance, pulled me into a soft, calming embrace. It took me by surprise at first; however I returned it, understanding very-well what he meant. We were both grieving for the loss of our dear brother, one by blood and the other by bond, whilst having not much of a way of showing it.

I looked at his eyes and released a breath; they were hard, cold and showed no emotion what so ever. Even the tear had disappeared. The sudden change of his demeanour reminded me of Sherlock and his way of dealing with emotions. I suppose they are just like each other in more ways than they realise...

"We must be leaving. The summit is over." And with that he turned on his heel and left. I cleared my throat once more to collect myself; it was time to leave...

Holmes was dead. I could not bring him back. But I could remember him, and forever I would.

I was about to leave when a sudden thought struck me terribly,

This was why he had apologised.

He had asked for my forgiveness because he knew that this night was most likely going to be his very last...

"Oh dear Sherlock, I forgive you, but I will never forget you"

R&R

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!