Sherlock had tossed himself on his bed and laid on his back, his eyes closed and his fingers steepled under his chin. He was putting every touch and every kiss and every movement, every word John said into his Mind Palace. It would be all that he had. John would be gone when left his room, if he ever did again. It was wonderfully dark in his room, of course his entire flat had thick, black, blackout curtains to cover all of the windows. That made his room dark and cool, perfect for him.

He was surprised when John knocked on his door. Well, here it was, he said. John was going to leave. He was sure that he knew a Demon or and Old One who could break this bond. At least he had the decency to say goodbye first.

"Come in." He said, his voice sounding utterly defeated.