Sherlock, semi-conscious from the blow to his head, slumped sideways as his captor’s hand fell away. But by then, pistol placed on the gravel beside them, John was there to catch him before he could hit the tracks. Even barely conscious, Sherlock knew he was home. His body sagged against John and he sighed softly, his eyelids flickering momentarily before closing against his pale cheeks.

“We can’t stay here, my love. I know you’re tired but we must get to somewhere safe as quickly as possible. It’s still very dangerous for you, Sherlock. Will you come with me?”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock murmured, his face pressed against John’s chest. “I’m sorry, John. I understand now. I love you. I wanted to live so that I could tell you I love you.”

John’s eyes filled and he hugged Sherlock close. He whispered down to him, “It’s alright, sweetheart. This is very difficult for you, I know. And I love you too; more than anything, Sherlock.”