Hero Down

Sherlock stepped forward, punting the bomb away from himself and John. It sailed in a high arc towards Moriarty who gave a small shriek, flinging his arms out to make it land in the pool. The mechanical part weighed it down and it began to sink.

“You… kicked my bomb!” Jim sputtered.

John’s eyes noticed the red spots of the laser guidance on the rifle all converged on Sherlock’s back. Launching himself he placed himself in the line of fire. Pain exploded in his thigh and he gave a scream of pain as he fell against Sherlock’s back.

“You two… are no fun. Tata!” Moriarty left the room.

“John? John what…?” Sherlock gasped, turning to catch his friend before he fell to the floor.

There was an explosion and water geysered up from the pool. As it fell it drenched them both, knocking them down. Sherlock sputtered for breath and struggled to keep a hold on John to ease his fall. “Oh lord, you’re hit!” Realization dawned on the detective as he noticed the crimson stain in the water below them. “Where? Where?”

“My leg!” The older man cried, gritting his teeth in pain.

Sherlock desperately searched through his pockets, finding his mobile. “Stay with me, John…” He then typed out one of the shortest texts of his life. “help J shot” It was sent to Mycroft. Sherlock prayed to whatever god oversaw his soul that for once Mycroft’s tracking devices would be of use.

“Stay with me…” The brunette repeated as a mantra, his fingers seeking the source of the blood. Finding the spot where John let out a cry of agony as he probed, he pressed the heel of his hand upon it, vaguely remembering that wounds needed pressure on them. “Open your eyes.”

John blinked his eyes open, staring up at his companion’s face. It seemed odd that a face that was usually so stoic or smug held such fear and sadness. Sherlock was actually crying. The tears slid down his cheeks as his nose ran and his lips trembled. The younger man tried to wipe away his tears with his free arm before gathering John’s head into his lap. “Don’t leave me…” His usually deep voice broke as he struggled past the lump in his throat.

They sat there for what seemed like eternity. Finally sirens could be heard in the distance, approaching the pool house. The calvary had arrived. What happened next was a swirl of lights and commotion. John was hoisted into an ambulance on a gurney. Sherlock was guided to a black car he vaguely realized was his brother’s. They made their way to the hospital in silence as the ambulance screamed before them. Sherlock followed the gurney through the labyrinth of the hospital and lingered in the room before he was pushed out into the hallway and the door shut in his face. He stood there, his forehead and blood stained hands resting on the window as he looked in at the doctors and nurses working on John.

“He’ll get the best care… I know how important he is to you.” Mycroft spoke from behind Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t bother to turn around and look. His breath steamed up the window.

A doctor made a text and Mycroft’s mobile caught it. “It seems he’ll pull through. The bullet didn’t hit an artery.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and rocked his forehead against the cool window. “James Moriarty.”

“Pardon?” Mycroft replied, stepping closer to his brother.

“The man who did this to him… James Moriarty. I’ve never asked you for anything before. I want this. I want him found.” Balling up his fists, he turned around, his back against the wall and slid down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Could it be? My dear little brother has finally felt the quickening of his heart? You found a yin to your yang?” Mycroft squatted down beside his brother.

Sherlock bowed his head into his knees, trying to take up the least amount of room. “Just DO IT, Mycroft!”

The door of the room opened and a nurse looked out. “Are you… family?”

Mycroft stood and pointed helpfully at his crouching brother. “He’s the husband of the patient.”

The nurse bowed down to address the brunette on the floor. “Sherlock? Is that your name?”

“It is.” Mycroft interpreted for his brother’s foul mood.

“Sherlock, your husband is asking for you.”

Sherlock stood up quickly and nearly ran the nurse down as he went into the room. “John? John?”

“Sherlock…” John smiled faintly through the pain killers they had given him. “Can you tell Sarah where I am?”

The brunette gaped at his friend. “Why you… jackass! You… bloody wanker! You randy arsed GIT! You...”

Mycroft stepped into the fight. “Now, now… He’s drugged, Sherlock.”

“I only meant… she was waiting for me. I don’t want her to worry.” John shut his eyes. His hand lay on his stomach, outside of the blanket they had put on him.

Mycroft grabbed his brother’s hand and placed it on John’s. “Here… you two play nice, Sherlock, while I get your ‘husband’s’ room and care arranged.” He left them alone.

The doctors and nurses soon left to prepare the various tests that would be needed.

John turned his hand over and gripped Sherlock’s. “Are you alright?”

“You idiot, that’s my line.” Sherlock replied, trying to regain control of his emotions.

“Husband? I seem to have moved up in Mycroft’s opinion of me.”

“It’s what he’s telling the hospital… so they won’t ask questions as to your affiliation with me… him. They won’t ask as many questions if they think you’re family.”

“Well I’m honored.”

“You shouldn’t be… my family is…” Sherlock sighed. “I thought you were going to die on me.”

“I’m a soldier, remember?” John smiled a little bit.

Sherlock tightened his hand on John’s. “I was such an idiot. I let my guard down and you… you got hurt.”

“Is that my blood?” John asked, staring at the crimson on Sherlock’s fingers.

“It should have been mine.”

“Nonsense. Then I’d be the one with your blood on me… because I’d take you to surgery and heal you myself.”

“You just want to touch my thigh.”

“You touched mine.”

“You were bleeding.”

“Thank you.” John whispered, squeezing Sherlock’s hand.

Shyly Sherlock laced their fingers together. He stared down at their hands.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Sherlock didn’t reply.

“I mean it… As upset as you were… I would be too if anything happened to you. He’s dangerous. And he’s not like you… he’s just… insane. You have to promise me, Sherlock. You won’t do anything until I can be there to help you.”

Sherlock tried to pull his hand away but John held it fast. “PROMISE me!” His eyes glowed with intensity only seen when they were in the heat of case. “We are partners in this.”

Slowly Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft entered the room. “That’s better. Everything has been arranged. They’ll check John’s leg and remove the bullet then it’s good old fashioned bed rest. Sherlock I hope you can take better care of him then you did your goldfish.”

“I was NINE!” Sherlock growled.

“Yes, let’s hope you’ve made some progress in the past 25 years.”

“Well I trust John has more sense than a goldfish not to overindulge when eating.”

“Poor Mr. Bubbles never stood a chance…”

“Yes I think I have more sense than a goldfish, Mycroft.” John face palmed at their conversation.

Before Mycroft left his brother pulled him aside. “Find him, Mycroft. Find him and destroy him.” The anger in the younger man’s eyes made his brother shiver. “If he does this to John again…” His threat was open.

“As you wish, brother.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a reassuring smile and left the hospital. Of course he would do as his brother asked. John Watson, the key to his brother’s retribution had been threatened. And Mycroft never wanted to see Sherlock slip back to where he had been. That wouldn’t do at all. It was time to get involved.