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His ragged breathing seemed to alert John the most. Although he had done it no more than ten minutes ago it rushed through his system and pumped through his veins and he swayed on his feet as John shouted his name in surprise. He fell to the ground with a loud thump and watched John rush forward between half-lidded eyes. Watched John as he checked his pulse point and fluttered his fingers over his wrist, throat, chest. He heard John murmuring under his breath; his name. Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock. He felt John's hands on his shoulders and in a much louder tone he voiced Sherlock's name again. They had been outside in the middle of the sidewalk; some people had begun to crowd around them, mobile in hand.
"I'm a doctor!" Ahh, yes John's voice. Sherlock smiled, his vision fuzzy and his mind moving at a more rapid pace. John began to wipe away tears as Sherlock's body became more lax. He pretended that he wasn't dying. Pretended that he wasn't cold. Pretended that John loved him pretend that John loved him pretend John loved him. Sherlock's eyes closed, visioned John's laugh and smile and tucked them away in a safe file, stored it for safe keeping. John's skin was ruff but soft against his own; oh yes and warm so warm. Sherlock tried to tell him that but his tongue was too heavy. The drug raced through his body.