In his eyesight the Machine sees one thing he knows:

A gun.

And it is about to shoot at the comforting, painful person next to him. He cannot decide whether he wants this to happen, because he is a Machine.

He is a Machine. Machines do not care for the death of others, Machines are efficient, perfect, logical things that cannot care.

Yet he cares.

Sherlock… You Machine! Sherlock… You Machine! Sherlock… You Machine! Yells the voice. It hurts. It hurts oh so much, the pain is not only in his head now, but everywhere; like an echo through his hollow and empty body.
Sherlock… You Machine! Sherlock… You Machine! Sherlock… You Machine! He still cares. Why does he still care when it's causing him so much pain? The voice is banging in his head, louder than ever before, but all he can concentrate is on the fact that he cares.

WHY DO I CARE?

Because it is John. Because he is your friend.
Because.
Sherlock… You Machine!
You.
Sherlock… You Machine!
Are.
Sherlock… You Machine!
Not.
Sherlock… You Machine!
A Machine.

And suddenly it stops and in his head there is silence for one tiny moment. New noise comes in again but it isn't John's screaming anymore, it is the sound of deductions.

The door in his head, up until then only open at night, swings open and he knows who he is, why he is here, what he does and most of all: he knows he is not a machine because he cares. This is also why he grabs the gun from his former flatmate just before he pulls the trigger. The bullet escapes the weapon and hits the neon tube above the tube. The light shatters and it is dark again.
"John," he says.
"Sherlock?" asks John.
"Now, yes," he says.
"You are not a machine, you never were a machine."
"I know," he says.

A/N: SO WOW. I FINALLY FINISHED THIS. AND IT WASN'T EVEN THAT HARD I SAT AT THIS FOR LESS THAN HALF AN HOUR I COULD JUST NEVER BE BOTHERED TO FINISH IT. WHY IS THIS ALL IN CAPS? BECAUSE FINISHED FANFIC YAY!