(Alternate "The Empty Hearse")

Sherlock walked through London's streets, a baseball cap hiding his face, wearing his familiar blue trench coat. With every step and breath, his ribs burned. They were certainly fractured, and possibly broken. He had withheld this information from Mycroft, assuming he would not care. Sherlock now realized that he had miscalculated his ability to withstand the injury. His vision was going black at the edges, and his breathing was labored and ragged.

Just need to get to Baker Street... Sherlock thought, dragging himself forwards. Just a little further...

Sherlock reached the familiar door and pushed through it. Mrs. Hudson was cleaning, and therefore didn't notice him come in.

Sherlock stumbled up the stairs and collapsed against the flat's door, vision completely dark.

Ribs definitely broken, some internal bleeding, need medical assistance-John. Sherlock thought, wheezing even in his Mind Palace.

The door gave to his weight and Sherlock stumbled through it. He saw John curled up on the couch, head buried in a pillow.

"John..." he groaned. John looked up and Sherlock was startled by his appearence; he was unshaven, his eyes were bloodshot with bags beneath, and he was so very thin and pale. When John's eyes met Sherlock's he blinked then shook his head. "Go away. I know you're not real. Sherlock's... dead." his voice quivered at that.

Sherlock was stunned and worried, but "No... help..." was all he managed before the world spun and everything went black. The last thing he heard was someone calling his name.
-SR-
John was buried in his familiar despair. For the last two years, he had confined himself to 221B Baker Street, only leaving to visit Sherlock's grave. Up until recently, he had been seeing Sherlock, but he knew it was only in his mind and trying to stop.
At the moment, he was curled up on the couch, thinking about all the times Sherlock had lay here, his fingers steepled just under his chin in that way of his. He had just banished 'Not Sherlock' again, when the door opened revealing the familiar figure of Sherlock Holmes. John just sighed and said "Go away. I know you're not real. Sherlock's... dead." his voice quivering.
Then, Sherlock stumbled and John noticed his pained countenance and that he was clutching his ribs. "No... help..." Sherlock said, and John's eyes widened. This had never happened before! Maybe...
John lept to his feet and rushed to his friend, who had collapsed.
He ripped off Sherlock's trench coat, realizing that this was the real Sherlock, because he could never touch his hallucination.
John instantly saw broken ribs jutting up through Sherlock's skin and turned a pale shade of gray.
Sherlock was alive, but he would only stay that way if John could save him.

A/N: Do you guys like this? Do you think that it should be Johnlock? Please let me know if you have any feedback for me.