Based on the song 'Say Something' by A Great Big World. One Shot. I don't own the characters or the song. Please review! x

Say something, I'm giving up on you

I'll be the one, if you want me to

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Sherlock stared at the ceiling, listening to the phone dial over and over and over.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

'Pick up, pick up, pick up', he said to no one, his words slurred.

He was losing concentration on the phone in his hand, slowly dropping it to the floor.

It was too much, he had known in some part of his magnificent brain, he had known it had been too much.

His eyes roamed the ceiling of the flat he had shared with John Watson. The memories of the wedding during the day flooded his senses.

Lilac ties, lilac dresses, lilac flowers.

The wine, the music, laughter, dancing.

He never got to dance.

He wanted to dance.

Sherlock tried to roll his body to get up but his muscles were not co-operating.

And I am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

He was feeling too warm.

Not long ago he was cold. Running up the stairs to the flat. Through the streets of London. Away from the wedding.

Leaving the wedding early.

Mrs Hudson.

Poor Mrs Hudson.

Tears started to pool in Sherlock's overblown eyes.

And I will stumble and fall

I'm still learning to love

Just starting to crawl

The black and white wallpaper began to twist and turn into unimaginable shapes.

Sherlock turned back to the phone in his hand and begged a voice to come through.

When the call was unsuccessful he made another and another.

Each time, it went to voicemail.

Each time, Sherlock became a little more panicked, a little more scared.

Shooting pains began in his chest.

He felt his heart rate increase.

Please answer.

I will swallow my pride

You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye

His breathing became ragged and irregular.

He needed an answer soon.

I'm sorry.

Human error.

So so so so sorry.

A tear fell down his cheek.

The phone dropped from his hand.

Say something, I'm giving up on you.

John Watson picked up the phone from the sideboard where he had left it while he danced.

Laughing at a joke, he made to use the camera to remember the night.

11 Missed Calls: Sherlock Holmes.

His skin chilled.

He ran up the stairs two at a time to 221B and threw open the door.

On the floor in front of the sofa, Sherlock lay on his back.

Rolled-back eyes pointing at the ceiling.

Convulsing.

SHERLOCK!

Say something…