Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Burning

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN: BURNING

He tumbled through the air, his coat flying out behind him. The dark angel had fallen from grace, and there was no going back now. The wind whistled past Sherlock’s ears, and everything moved in slow motion. He fell from the rooftop, his arms spread out wide.

“Sher…” John murmured in shock, eyes on his tumbling friend, transfixed.

Sherlock’s body hit the ground with a muffled thud, the snap of his neck ringing in Amelia’s ears on a constant loop. Amelia ran towards her fiancé’s body in panic, falling to the ground as a cyclist biked into her. Her head hit the asphalt, gravel digging into her exposed flesh and breaking the skin. She ignored the pain entirely, the adrenaline coursing through her veins blocking it out. She struggled to get up, blinking as she tried to stay conscious, pushing her brother away as he ran to her side to help her up.

She pushed her way through the growing crowd of people, “Sherlock, Sherlock…” Amelia murmured tearfully as she and John reached Sherlock’s form, blood staining Sherlock’s face, the crimson liquid standing out from Sherlock’s pale skin.

“I’m a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please.” John begged, forcing people out of his way.

“No!” Amelia cried, sobs racking her body. “He’s my fiancé. He’s my fiancé. Please.” Amelia covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her pained, almost animalistic shrieks that tried to burst from her mouth.

She watched, horrified, as John knelt to the ground and grabbed Sherlock’s wrist, desperately searching for a pulse. A woman peeled his fingers off Sherlock’s lifeless arm, pulling both of the Watsons away. Amelia struggled to break free, trying to get back to Sherlock’s body in a desperate attempt to see if he was alive.

One more miracle from him, that’s all she needed. One more miracle.

“Please, let me just—” Amelia begged frantically, her vision starting to spin. She struggled to stay upright, on the verge of fainting, people surrounding her helping her up. All sound had become muffled, and all Amelia could hear was her heartbeat in her ears; a heartbeat Sherlock, the man she loved, no longer had.

Amelia watched silently as a small group of four people lifted Sherlock’s body up onto a stretcher, wheeling him away. Another sob hitched in Amelia’s throat as she watched Sherlock’s corpse being taken away, her eyes never leaving his form. She shook off the people supporting her, vaguely aware of a shock blanket being set around her shoulders haphazardly.

She clutched it closer, wincing at the medicinal smell that seemed to exude from it. An ambulance pulled up beside Amelia, its medics forcing her to take a seat inside while they checked her vital signs. She remained silent through all the tests, staring blankly at the wall of the vehicle.

Sherlock, oh Sherlock, what have you done? Amelia thought, the words on an endless loop inside her mind.

~Mycroft’s office~

“I HATE YOU!” Amelia shouted as she stormed into Mycroft’s office, her eyes red and bloodshot. Mascara stained her face, and her fingernails had been bitten down to their beds. The door to Mycroft’s office slammed against the wall, no doubt leaving a dent in the plaster. “This. Is. All. Your. Fault!”

Mycroft looked up, his usually cold gaze softening when he saw Amelia’s state. “Amy—”

“No! Don’t you ‘Amy’ me!” Amelia snapped, “Sherlock died because you told Moriarty everything! Could you not have kept your mouth shut?! Was it really so difficult? There were a dozen different things you could’ve kept him for, but you just had to get more information out of him! Why do you always have to be the winner at everything?!”