A Game Of Hearts And Minds

CHAPER XXVI - None of them come free..

Lauraine's POV

The hospital was already way too many breaths away, for my body. My mind wasn't ready to give up yet, and although my movements were slower, my breath was ragged and my body felt like I had been hit by a doubledekker bus, my mind reminded me what I did this all for. Sure, my body was giving in, sure this was dangerous, sure I would be dead after today, but it was all for one purpose. 

I was going to die tonight, and I wanted to at least be wearing something pretty of it. So by the time it was 6 PM I locked myself into the bathroom one last time to get ready. Getting ready for dead, hah, never thought I'd be saying that.

I was wearing a burgandy blouse, stuffed into my leather trousers. It wasn't too tight on my skin, luckily. I wanted to feel comfortable, you know, when I die. 

The sunset painted the sky in hues of soft pinks and oranges as we stood on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street. The air was crisp, a gentle breeze carrying the promise of uncoming night. Sherlock joined me on the stoop, his eyes betraying a subtle understanding of the unspoken farewell that lingered between us. 

I turned to face him, my gaze meeting his with a mixture of sadness as well as acceptance. No words passed between us, for we'd always communicated in the language of shared glances and unspoken gestures. The weight of our shared story hung in the air, the memories of countless cases etched into the very fabric of the we'd come to call home. 

Sherlock's hand reached up, a silent acknowledgment as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. His touch lingered for a moment longer than usual, a quiet farewell in the simplicity of that gesture. There was a dept of understanding in his eyes,  a recognotion that this might be the last time we stood on this doorstep together.

I met his gaze with a small and warm smile, a wordless reassurance that I carried our adventures with me, even now while I stepped into the unknown and was heavily intwined with a dance along death. Sherlock eyes revealed a vulnerability that he reserved for moments like this. There was a shared understanding that transcended words, an acceptance that some chapter must come to close.

As I began to descend the steps ahead of Sherlock, the sunset casting a warm glow on the cobblestone street, I stole one last glanced at 221B, and Sherlock's well known silhouette against the doorway, a silent farewell etched in the canvas of the picture that I saw before me.

No words are needed, for in that quiet exchange, I said my goodbye to this chapter. As I walked over to the cab, Sherlock following me, a silent testament to the chapters of our lives that have intertwined and, perhaps, reached our final page.

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By the time the white, weathered building loomed in the distance the pressure in my chest had grown to an immense hight, and I could feel my heart rate intensify. There was barely enough energy in my body to keep me up on my feet, all signs my body was giving me paired with an internal bleeding. "Lauraine, are you alright?" Mary asked as I can back to senses in front of the hospital. She and John came my way, their steps in sinc with the pounding in my head and the shorts of pain shooting through my abdomen. I could practically feel the blood drain from my face. "Yeah." My voice was nothing more than a bare whisper, an distant echo.

I hadn't even realized that John had reached for my arm and was now holding onto my wrist. "Your pulse is erratic and I can hear your squeeling from here. You need to sit down."

I flicked his hand off my wrist. "This isn't the first time this has happened, I do have a distinct feeling this will be the last, and I would very much like to remind you that we have a slight deadline ahead." I had to gasp for air three times during that sentence. It was getting worse.