Sherlock clenched his jaw and fists. Don't succumb. Find control. Find it and hold onto it. He pled with himself. Not today. It will not be today.  But despite his hopes, the detective deduced that his body could only take maybe two, and at most three more injections before toxic shock finished him off. Either from that or from blood loss.

It was apparent to him that if he wasn't found within the day and given immediate medical treatment by midnight that his number would be up. So he had been preserving as much of his strength as he could to make his own last stand. At best he could hope to take a phone and call 999. But neither Jacob nor Creighton had been down to visit him in a while. It's been a few hours, I think. They may have gone out for a treat to celebrate the end of the famed Hat Detective.  He mused bitterly, rolling back onto his side and ignoring the protesting pain that flared up in his body.

Sherlock didn't dare to use up any of his meager energy, even to see if he could get up at least into a sitting position. He let himself go completely limp on the hard cement floor. The cold stung him on all sides but he just breathed shallowly and entered his mind palace.

Feeling an impulse to wander through it perhaps for the last time, he let himself go from room to room. He visited Redbeard and the room dedicated to his childhood memories first, and then Mycroft, his parents, Molly, Greg, Missus Hudson, and finally came to the Watsons. John, Mary, and Rosie. He relived a number of his favorite memories with them in the complex chamber he had built around them before heading to Adelaide's.

Unlike the Watsons' room which was quite loud and filled with sarcasm and action, hers was much more quiet. He stepped in and the fragrance of her perfume as well as the scent of fresh baked cookies were the first things to welcome him, followed by her giggle and an projection of her with her glasses and her golden waves in a springy ponytail. He relived his most poignant memories of her, from when he only knew her as "A" all the way up to their parting kiss before he was abducted.

He stayed in Adelaide's chamber until a hard jab to the gut yanked him out of his mind palace and back to reality, "Oi, if you're dead then we'll go head and dissect you now."

"You'll do nothing of the sort." Sherlock hissed back, opening his eyes a bit to  see Jacob there.

"So he still isn't dead yet. Remarkable for someone who's been shot up with toxins for days," Creighton's voice echoed as he climbed down onto the cellar, "I looked up that helicopter and apparently there's been a shootout and the gunman is on the run a couple streets down and they're following them. All over the local news right now. I locked up of course. No need for the coppers to chase him in here and find all this so soon."

"How thoughtful." Sherlock mumbled sarcastically. Please let that guy break in or hide under the eaves. At least the police will have surrounded us by then and I could make a run for it.

Creighton pulled a chain and on came a single lamp to brighten the room up. Sherlock drew his lips into a thin line as the prior Toxicologist set down three vials of multicolored, tinted liquid. Then he laid out three syringes and other supplies. But at least they have the decency to sterilize their equipment. Probably a force of habit though. Sherlock remarked. His heart sank as he watched Creighton siphon the solutions from the vials up into the needle-nosed vessels and then instructed, "Get him up off the ground and onto the table, Jacob. I'd prefer not to have to bend down to administer his last injections. It's been so tedious."

Sherlock waited until Jacob had pulled him up to his feet before aiming a left hook and nailing him square on the noise, feeling a definite crackle. It was enough for Jacob to release him and Sherlock bolted, a surge of adrenaline bolstering him enough to skid across the cellar floor and up the rickety stairs.

But Creighton caught him and got him in a restraint just as he grasped the door handle. Sherlock struggled and slammed against the door to try and pin his captor, "Nice try, Holmes!! But it's over for you!!"

"NO!!" Sherlock protested, ramming against the barrier.

Creighton stabbed the syringe into his arm and pressed down, emptying the contents into Sherlock's arm. It was enough to make him go limp again as a shockwave of pain radiated through his body almost immediately. Creighton turned and passed him off to Jacob, nose still spurting blood as he lifted him and carried him over to the recently cleared plastic table.

Jacob held him down and Sherlock struggled. Creighton grabbed the second syringe and walked over, leaning down, "For posterity's sake, be honest. What is on your mind right now?" He asked as he inserted the needle and slowly depressed the plunger, starting the flow of toxic chemicals.

While Sherlock wanted to scream every curse he knew at them, the first thing that came to his mind was Adelaide. He felt for his wedding band and without thinking he rasped, "... Adelaide."

I don't want to die and leave her.

Almost as soon as he's said her name, sounds of commotion filtered through the cellar door just before it slammed open with a cracking noise. Creighton and Jacob were so startled that they jolted and let go of the syringe and Sherlock, who without the restraint rolled off the table and smacked the floor. He managed to tug the needle out as people raced into the dark chamber, panting as the toxins overwhelmed him again.

"Sherlock, you're going to be okay! We've got you!"

Thank you for reading!! 😘❤ Shout out to mmkn2005 for her help and support!!