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[jumpthegun]

You've reached Dr. John Watson. Please leave a message.

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[howdull]

[This feels oddly unreal.

It seems so convenient that the man who had been so far behind him had suddenly caught up, that they were from the same point in time. Or near enough, from what he can tell, though he didn't know Mycroft had sent a car for John. He's still awaiting Culverton's attentions. Is it punishment for what he's done, so he can't hide from his sins? Or is this just a dying brain firing off nonsense while Culverton kills him?

He discards that at once. Nobody knows his brain like Sherlock does, and he knows this is real. He's not in his mind palace, he's not dying. Which means this is some hilarious penance for Eve, maybe even for trying to get drugs out of her, who the hell knows? It would be the truth and not the truth to say Culverton is going to kill him. He might succeed, it's not completely certain that John will get there in time, but he might not. Sherlock isn't sure whether he honestly cares one way or the other, and that's a truth to keep to himself.]

Mycroft is always meddling.

[Such an innocuous truth. It's amusing, in its own way, that Sherlock is so acquainted with lies that he can do it with the truth too.]

You have to be missing something, what is it?

[The death price.]

[jumpthegun]

I don't know. I've got all my senses. I've got more memories than I know what to do with, and everything's working.

[Which is another point in favor this all being fake. There's always a death price.]

Maybe my sense of direction's shot to hell. I won't know until tomorrow.

[howdull]

Where are you?

[He won't want Sherlock near him, but he can make sure someone goes to John.]

[jumpthegun]

A morgue.

[John, don't be like that. You know what he did for you. What he's done for you. What were you driving to Culverton's hospital for?

John sighs to himself and it's a short while later after searching around that he adds more.]

Police station. Found four extra sets of handcuffs in a drawer. Where are you?

[howdull]

Nowhere near there, south of the chapel.

[Is that a relief, or not?]

Contact one of your friends, Solomons or Barnes.

[jumpthegun]

[John stares at Mary for a long moment.

Talk to him. John, you need to talk to him. He's dying. He's died for you. He'll keep killing himself for you if you don't say something.]

Bucky's been turned into Pierce's pawn. He was the Winter Soldier when I called him the other night.

[howdull]

[He rubs at his head, slotting that piece of information into place to be worked on later. He will bring down Pierce, but he's not overtly dangerous enough to go after Sherlock himself, and so he's no good to help him save John.

All his work with Culverton gone, destroyed. Only a few drugs left to him after using a lot to overdose. He'll have to go after the Joker, it's his only recourse now.]

Sorry.

Solomons, then.

[jumpthegun]

No.

[It's as simple as that.]

He's got a big enough group. He doesn't need two more people.

[howdull]

Who are you with?

[Two more? John already has company?]

[jumpthegun]

[... Well, hell. John glances at Mary. There's only the barest pause before John comes up with an excuse.]

No one. I meant Dug. I promised we'd come get him before we died.

[howdull]

[...wait.

The answer clicks a second too late, and now there's nothing for it. He doesn't believe the lie about Dug, not for a second.]

You mean Mary.

[Still seeing her. He knows, he notices everything about John even when they're not together. He knows what's been going on.]

[jumpthegun]

[John stares at the message for a long few seconds, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

He does know you.]

He doesn't know anything.

[You can't lie to him. Not about this. Too long on the hesitation. Your therapist was starting to work it out. You think he would've missed it?]

I meant Dug.

[howdull]

Tell her I'm sorry.

[So very sorry. He's never lost anyone close to him before, not anyone that he loved, and it aches inside like a physical wound. More so because it was his fault. It's a ridiculous thing to say, though, because it's not Mary. It's a hallucination of John's grief, nothing more or less.

He sends the message anyway.]

[jumpthegun]

[Tell him it's not his fault. You know it's not, John. This isn't going to do either of you any good.]

It's not real. None of this is real.

[He loves you. You love him. He needs to hear it. You need to tell him or he'll just keep killing himself. She sounds near to tears. And there's something that aches in John's chest. But none of this is real. It won't count in a dream and he has a hard enough time expressing these kinds of things without having to do it twice. It hurts too much already, having seen his messages.]

I'm sorry.

[John.]

I have to call Dug. I'll talk to you later, Sherlock. Keep warm.

[He disconnects.]

[howdull]

[He's slipping, and Sherlock can't do anything about it right now. John cannot be allowed to disconnect, he doesn't even have Molly here to help him through the worst moments, or Rosie to lift him momentarily from his gloom.

It's settled, then, he needs to take action.

To the Joker with him.]