Ashes, Ashes

A Sorry Sight

- c h a p t e r  t w e n t y   f i v e -

Emma's days blurred together as easily as watercolours. She, unfortunately, couldn't find anything to change her days. The only alteration in her life was when the horrifying Magnussen appeared and caused a wave of anxiety to settle permanently in her chest. At least, it hadn't faded away quite yet.

In a way, she was thankful to feel at least that much. Before this point, she'd started to have numbness settle in. After each and every day filled itself to the brim with pain, Emma had to start getting used to it if she was to move past it. She still had to get herself through each day, through each hour at work, through each moment when she released a sigh.

When her phone suddenly rang, Emma just about lunged at it - something, somewhere, was happening. The caller ID informed her that John was the one calling her, which only managed to make her excitement increase intensely.

"John?" Emma asked upon picking up the phone. "Didn't think that you'd be calling me..." She couldn't help the way her voice rose up what seemed to be an octave or the slight mocking tone which entered her voice.

"Well, I didn't think I'd have to call you to begin with," John said, sounding almost out of breath in Emma's opinon.

"Er, John?" she asked. "Is something the matter?" This would certainly make sense - why else would he waste his time having a conversation with Emma, actively seeking out a conversation with her?

"I don't want to say this, but...oh, God. I don't know how to say this. I don't know how to say this."

"What is it, John?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows even though John couldn't possibly see her facial expressions through the phone. "You sound awfully worried, what is it?"

"Sherlock...Sherlock's been shot. Almost certainly a fatal wound. He's...he's going to die, if he's not dead already. I can't believe it, but I saw him with my own eyes...the paramedics couldn't come soon enough...he is going to die."

"You're kidding," Emma said. "That can't be true. You and him must be bloody joking, trying to get my mind completely twisted up. You liars."

"I wouldn't lie about something like this," John replied, feigning strength in his voice. It was obvious that he was completely and utterly falling apart when it came to speaking about this situation. He couldn't bar it, and for good reason.

"Do you know...do you know who..."

"We don't know. The details are entirely foggy. All I know is that he was shot and the gunman was nowhere to be found when we rushed in. He most likely knows who shot him, but...we're not going to find out, that's for certain."

"You know nothing?" Emma mumbled.

"All we know is that he's dying, Emma. He's going to die any moment now."

"And they can't...they can't do anything to stop it?" Emma said, her voice nearly dropping to a whisper.

"They're not miracle workers. That's not how it works."

"He's dead, then," Emma murmured, mostly to herself. "After all this time, he's dead. You would think that he could never die because he's barely human, but now he's dead."

"I know," John mumbled in response.

Their conversation diminished to nothing but static silence for several moments. Neither one had anything to say that would help improve their situation. The only thing left in their minds was a load of moping, a load of ways to moan and mourn over the situation that was sitting before them.