(Spoilers!)

"I'm a fake."

"Sherlock?"

"No- stay exactly where you are! Don't move!"

"Alright!"

"Keep your eyes fixed on me!"
"Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?"

"This phone call.. is.. It's my note. What people do, don't they?"
"Leave a note?"

"Goodbye John."

"No no no, Don't,"
"SHERLOCK!"

Everyone startled, the strange mans voice still ringing in their ears, the image of a man with dark hair and a dark coat hitting the hard ground outside of a large building playing in their minds, for the reason, it was unknown.
The shouting, two men's voices combining into one agonizing scream, filled to the brim with pain and sadness, heartbreak and the absolute fear.

One of the voices- one of the voices that was filled with that heartbreak and pain, that sadness and that fear- that voice is the one everyone recognized.

Merlin.

The sudden image of a dark haired man on pals ground, blindingly bright crimson red coating the pavement around him.
Familiar, pale, thin hands coated in blood, some of it starting to dry- the blood sickeningly bright against the pale hands- Merlins hands.

The sudden flash through everyone's mind once again, this time much clearer.

Merlin in a grassy field area, standing before a solid black marble stone, a grave marker.

Still covered in blood as if he hadn't cleaned up since the man hit the ground- the man whom had not yet identified, the group focused on Merlins face, his body, his clothing.

A black shirt, a large dark blue overcoat, darkly colored trousers and odd shoes, merlins hair was just as pale as always, his hair a dark tuff, eyes as bright and vibrant as always. The men watched as merlin stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and sighed, looking at the stone.

"Hel-" His voice cracked in a heartbreaking way.

"Hello Sherlock.." He inhale deeply through his nose."You're a bleeding idiot. You know that? A bleeding idiot. And.. And I think John said it best when he said that you.. are one of the most human and one of the best people I've ever known. You are one of the best people I've ever known, you were hero- even if you didn't acknowledge it and.. I've.. I've lost so many people in my life and I'm so sorry that I had to lose you too." Tears were streaming his cheeks now, splatting on the ground and the look on Merlins face is so painful, so hard to look at.

His knees buckled and he hit the ground solidly in from stone, his forehead pressed solidly against, he's openly sobbing now.

No one, Arthur included, has ever seen Merlin cry, and defiantly not this hard- they look at merlin and all they can think about is the grin he always has, the laugh that's so painfully contagious. Not tears. Not pain.

"He won't win Sherlock- I promise you. He won't win. He won't win." The last line was nothing more than a faint and choked whisper, Merlin had his head bowed now, the tears solidly streaming now.

Everyone was suddenly pulled through the memory and back to their campsite. Merlin was still laying in his bedroll, the blood from his injury staining the bandages. Everyone looked at the page, only to see Gwaine's hand firmly planted on a circular symbol with strange symbols and writing inside of it, the top of the page simply saying "Sherlock's Fall".

Only then, did everyone realize the burning sting of unshed tears in the back of their eyes.

(The circular writing is indeed circular Galifreyan, but I'm pretty sure everyone already guessed that. By the way, thanks to everyone for all the love on this story, the comments make my day! More updates soon!)