Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely for fun.

Author's Notes: This is written in response to the Reichenbach Falls episode, so don't read any further if you have not seen that episode. No beta, just getting some ideas down.

At the graveside

Nicked underside of shaving due to tremor in hands. Shirt collar slightly grimy at neck, presupposing that he picked it up off the floor because he did not have clean shirt. Slight limp, sign of returning psychosomatic symptoms. Trousers dusty in patches, again, indicating that they'd been retrieved from the floor. Jacket loose, indicating a loss of weight, two kilos, no, three.

At hospital canteen

Greater weight loss: 5 kilos. Doctor's smock decidedly looser: Depth of shadows under eyes indicate chronic insomnia. Loss of appetite. Eating only in response to Molly's nagging. State of shirt collar? Grimy. Cuffs? Also grimy. New flat does not have laundry facilities? Shoes? Walking to work, mud caked on heel. Limp more pronounced. Cane has returned.

At Mycroft's club

Jacket decidedly looser: 10 kilos. Hair needs cutting, hasn't been to barber in four months six days and four hours. Shirt collar, frayed, and unspeakably dirty. Foot jiggling, chronic anxiety response. Excessive sweating, could be alcohol withdrawal. Gulping drinks, therefore most definitely alcohol withdrawal. Rosacea on cheeks confirms diagnosis. Jacket missing two buttons, pocket on right side torn at corner. Dear god, John.

"We have to do something, Sherlock. Now."

"He will never forgive me."

"Possibly not, but then it's not about you."

"This was never about me! It was about them!"

"Be that as it may, we need to devise another strategy, because according to my assessment he is three days away from ending up on a roof top with a gun in his mouth—"

"Two days, six hours, give or take four minutes."

"…or jumps off the roof of your building in homage to your own swan dive."

"It is not my building."

"It is now."