[He instinctively reaches, and grabs onto the man as he drops, grunting slightly as he lays the man down, quickly kneeling - his breath catches in his throat at the sight, flashing back to the drenched body he pulled out of the falls.

If he had expired, his body should be dissolving into golden mist, but yet, his fingers pressed against Moriarty's neck for a pulse before loosening the tie and the top button of his shirt, a leftover instinct from living life as a detective. The man pursed his lips, checking those eyes for a response to movement, and then with the EyePhone - to light.]

God damn it.