The room echoed with silent screams as Sherlock's body fell to the ground. The gun loosely falling from his hand as he moved to grasp the bleeding wound near his heart. He gasped for air as he fell to the floor convulsing in pain till he stilled. The precious lifeblood flowing profusely from the bullet wound. His vision became blurry and disoriented as his mind finally found peace in darkness.
Several seconds after hearing the shots John opened his eyes. He had felt no pain. No searing burn as the small piece of metal, tore through bone, muscle and flesh. Nothing. He hadn't been shot. Sherlock never pulled the trigger. His eyes immediately searched the room for his friend only to find a broken body.
"No, no, no, no, no" He ran over to Sherlock's body trying to stop the bleeding, although he knew that it was already to late.
"You bastard! You utter cock!" He cried unable to hold back his tears. "Why?" He pulled Sherlock onto his lap brushing away, the stray ebony locks that covered his eyes. "Why? We were meant to go together, my love." He kissed Sherlock's cold lips, before reaching for the gun.
"I promised you that I would finish this Sherlock and I am going too." He placed the barrel of the gun to his temple and smiled softly.
"We shall be together again, my love. I promise" He looked into Sherlocks still open eyes, and pulled the trigger.