Sherlock Imagines

{Bullet}

I saw the color of pain.

It was the color draining from my loved ones.
It was the shock of the bullet piercing my skin.  It was the echo of the shot that haunted my ears.
It was the rage that boiled in me when the psychopath smiled and ran away.
It was the fall I needed to take, trying to run away from the wound.
It was the split second where I met his blue-green eyes wishing for him to fix everything.

I felt so disconnected.

The pain took away any coherent thoughts I might have had in the moment. My ears hurt from the sound.
My eyes met many panicked ones.
So many faces.
So many frozen or shocked.
My throat went dry and I couldn't even express myself with a cry or scream.

I didn't have it in me.

I was so tired. They told me to stay...
Awake.
I felt my tears falling, mixing into my blood.
They needed me to keep my eyes open. But my eyelids were so heavy. I would close them.
"Only for a moment," I promised. My ears rang as the blurry faces cried out for me to open my eyes.

They kept trying to stop the bleeding.

They were all frantic.
Someone explaining loudly over the phone that someone was hurt while the others raced over.
I felt so many faces around me, looking for something to do. They sat me up, and made the pain sharper.
"Stop it," I opened my eyes weakly. "That hurts."
I saw them pause for moment, but it was only brief.

Most of the people were crying.

I didn't know why. But I wanted to understand.
It seemed so peaceful, even through the stinging pain. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
"It's okay," I whispered to the crying faces. I wanted to understand.
Why couldn't I understand?
It felt like I should know.
I opened my eyes slowly, watching the blurry faces pressed at where the pain was causing the staining of red.
I was still crying, but my mind felt like static.
I couldn't remember the names of the people around me. I couldn't and it upset me. I squeaked to express my emotion.
I saw strange men come in. They placed me on something soft. They carried me away.
The blurry faces of loved ones followed, someone holding my hand, whispering comfort.
I closed my eyes again.

Someone touched my face.

   I awoke to it. So gentle was the touch, as their face came into the clear.
"Please," He begged softly.
His eyes were red from crying. Black curly hair. Pale skin. "Stay with me." His voice was soft.
"It's so peaceful."
I said, the enviroment feeling ordered and clean. "Don't you think?"
He swallowed hard, a stray tear falling down his face. His fingers caressed the side of my face.
It felt familiar.
My mind still felt of static. But I knew it. I knew the name. I examined the face sleepily, and smiled. His eyes showed so much safety and love and worry, and his face deeply focused. I knew it.
It was a kind face.
"Such a kind face.." I said and he smiled weakly.
  I touched his face, cold and damp from tears as the sleepiness settled in. I fought as much as I could, to focus on the gentle gaze of the face.

I didn't know it would be the last time I saw it.