John was sitting next to Mycroft Holmes in a black car. It was raining outside, the whole atmosphere felt dark. They went through most of Sherlock's hiding places, finding nothing, when Mycroft got a message informing him that a street camera spotted Sherlock near the bridge, so they headed tha way. Mycroft was quiet, looking out the window rather lost in his thoughts. John was rather the opposite. He was worried, and he looked from left to right constantly, hoping to suddenly spot his ex-flatmate.

They sat in the car like this for the last few minutes. Then the black car started to slow, then stopped.

-We're at the bridge, sir- the driver said.

-Thank you- Mycroft said. He and John got out the car. Mycroft opened his umbrella, saving his suit from the rain. John was standing next to him, no umbrella, an no hood on his jacket. They looked around trying to spot Sherlock. It was hard to see anything int the rain, but London's street was rather empty because of it. The street lamps were lightning, it was rather atmospheric.

-Maybe we should cross the bridge. To see if he's on it. –John said.

-Right. You go there, I look through this side, checking the alleys.- Mycroft said.

They split up, and John headed for the bridge. He was rather wet because of the rain, but he did not cared. He passed through some pedastrians, and he always looked up hoping to his friend, but no success. Cars passed by him as he walked cross the bridge, the drivers looked strangly at him, wondering what he's doing in the pouring rain. He was halfway through, whe he noticed a strange figure sitting on the ground. The other pedastrians walked by him, not even looking at him. He wasn't moving, John wasn't even sure if the man was conscious. As he went closer he noticed the wet, dark hair, pale skin, and of course, that stupid coat.

-Sherlock!- John ran to the figure, kneeling down next to him, he felt his trousers getting wet. John quickly grabbed for his arm trying to find his pulse. Sherlock opened his eyes exhusted.

-John?- he asked. His voice was weak. His pulse was rather weak too.

-What happened? Did you took anything?- John asked loudly.

Sherlock looked away.

-Can you stand up?- John asked.

-Of course, I can- he answered. He tried to stand up, but he fell back down.

-I take that as a no.- John said. He took his phone out of his coat and quickly wrote Mycroft a text, asking him to call the ambulance on the bridge, and to come over.

-What did you took, Sherlock?- he asked him.

-I wasn't paying attention. –he said exhausted. He closed his eyes, knowing he would be safe now.

-No, no Sherlock, you have to stay awake at least until the paramedics arrive.-John said. Sherlocked opened his eyes again, and he started to cough weakly.

-C'mon I know you always pay attention. You notice everything, there's no way for you not to know it.- John said.

-What? Me, noticing everything?- he laughed weakly. –I'm the worst- he said, his voice cracked.- I don't see the point of trying anymore, John.- then Sherlock looked in the other direction. –I'm sorry, Victor.- he said, looking away, like he was talking to someone, but no one was there.

-Sherlock?- John tried to talk to him, but Sherlock wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

-I didn't even knew we had a freaking well!- Sherlock cried out. –I looked everywhere Victor, i tried...

Mycroft arrived, and John looked up at him.

-Overdosed. He's hallucinating.

Mycroft noded, and he kneeled down next to Sherlock too. He forgot about his expensive suit, or he did not cared. John couldn't decide.

-... But you wasn't there-Sherlock whispered.- Your parents came and they tried to question me, but I couldn't tell the answers. I wish it could have been me, Victor. I wish i was dead one- he cried.

-Sherlock?-Mycroft said, trying to make his brother look at him. –Sherlock look at me.

Sherlock was shaking, he gasped for air.

-I'm here, little brother- Mycroft said, holding his brother's hand.-I'm here Sherlock.

Sherlock seemed to calm down.

-Mycroft?-Sherlock looked up. John could hear the sirens, and after a second he saw the ambulance car rushing in.

-I'm here.- Mycroft answered. But then Sherlock looked down again, and he put his head on his knees.

-I that am lost oh, who will find me?-Sherlock whispered.- Deep down below the old beech.. tree?..-and with that Sherlock went quiet. John, who's hand was still on Sherlock's wrist, suddenly couldn't feel his pulse. He quickly laid him down on his back.

-He's not breathing!-he yelled at the paramedics who just arrived at the scene. –He's not breathing.- he said again, rather to himself. Mycroft was shocked, he just stared down at Sherlock's face.

The paramedics put an oxygen mask on Sherlock, and as quickly as they could, they unbuttened his shirt, ready to start CPR.

-Stand back!- one of them yelled at John and Mycroft. After a second John realised what was happening, and he quickly got out of the Mycroft wasn't moving anywhere. John ran to him, and he gently started to pull him up.

-Come! Let them work.-John said to him. Mycroft didn't answered but he stood up, and with Jonh they went back a little.

-3..2..1..NOW!-one of them yelled. John could see Sherlock's body lift, then went down. No respone.

-Again!

They tried it a few more time. Mycroft looked away, watched the stars above him. He saw a flashback playing in his mind.

He and Sherlock laid in a field, late night. They were looking at the stars. Their back was in the grass, and they laid next to each other. Mycroft was 16 back then, Sherlock was 11.

-Hey, Mycroft?- Sherlocked asked, breaking the silence in the field.

-Hmm?

-Do you think we become stars when we die?

Mycroft laughed.

-Don't be stupid. Those stars up there are already dead anyway. They really far away, so we only see their past form. When you die your body simply stops functioning. It won't became a star.

-And what about the soul? Does the soul dies too?

-Soul? We only have a brain inside us. If that dies, nothing will remain.

-Absolutly nothing? –Sherlock asked sitting up.

-Nothing. Only a tombstone with your name on it.

-Then what's the point of trying?

-Well, you can try and do something important. Something that will remain. Or something that will make this sick world a little better.-Mycroft answered

-Like helping others?

-Helping others is good, yes.

-Hmm. Then I shall help as many as I can.

Mycroft laughed.

-Whatever you say, little brother.

-AGAIN!- the paramedic sound brought Mycroft back. How sentiment he thought.

After this try, Sherlock suddenly started breathin again. They quickly put him on the carrying bed. He was unconscious.

-You go with him. I go with my car.-Mycroft said.

-Are you sure?- John asked. Altough he didn't liked Mycroft, he knew he cared for his brother.

-Deffinetly.- he said and started to walk away.

-Are you coming?-the paramedic asked John from the car.

-Yes, coming.-he said while he got in.