"This is a hospital. People die here all the time, doctor. Why don't you go and cry at their bedsides?" for some reason John dreamed occasionally of Sherlock saying those words. Then he would dream of approaching Sherlock's body in Saint Barts, and wake up gasping for air.
And then there were the words that John had never heard. The words only ever heard by two men who would never say them; one because he was dead and the other because he had disappeared and was thought dead, and unable to say them, "Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in Hell? I shall not disappoint you. Oh, I might be on the side of the Angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."
Words which had fallen with Sherlock.
But a phone which had not.

John stared at the phone. Greg Lestrade said quietly, "There's a message on there, John. Right at the end. He must have keyed it in and then seen you arrive at Saint Bart's and decided to talk to you instead."
John did not reach out to touch the phone, but hung his head and muttered, "What does it say?"
Lestrade stared at him, "Read it."
John closed his eyes, "No."
Lestrade dropped the phone on the table and John looked up, "What are you doing?"
Lestrade said, "They've done all they have to. Prints, DNA, copies of the memory card and simcard. This would just get lost in the archives at the yard. I thought you might like to keep it."
"That's illegal, Greg."
Greg shrugged, "Well, they can't do anything worse to me than they already have."
The slim, silver haired detective walked out, and John stared at the phone.
He picked it up, trying to feel grateful, and turned it over in his hands. Its weight and feel were familiar; John had answered it possibly more than Sherlock ever had. It felt warm from being in Greg's pocket. It had often felt warm when he had taken it from Sherlock's pocket.
He clicked onto the messages and scrolled to the last one. It was saved as a draft, addressed to his number but never sent.
John looked at the words. He read them over and over. A wave of embarrassment crossed John's body, as he thought of the Scotland Yard detectives all reading it. But then he hugged the phone so tight to his chest he thought it might be crushed.

"When I said 'angels' I saw your eyes."