Disclaimer: I don't own Holmes or Watson. And rest assured that even if I did, this would never happen to the poor mans.
A/N: This is fairly a piece of crap. However, it's somewhat emotional and written just for my BFF, a die-hard Watsonite. Here's to you, disoriented-problem!
Watson lay flat on the cold, stone floor.
His chest rise and fell quickly, his breath much too shallow. Slowly, Watson opened his eyes. His lips parted and weakly he groaned, "Holmes…."
In a split second, Holmes was beside him. "Watson," he exclaimed, nearly speechless. Blood soaked the front of his friend's shirt and trickled from his mouth. "Watson, what were you thinking?" Holmes said. He ripped the shirt clean off of him and threw it aside.
"You…" Watson stammered, "…came…to help…y-you."
"I told you precisely not to do that, Watson!" Holmes said harshly. "You bloody fool!" His eyes raked over the bright red fingerpainting of Watson's chest. A few small, gurgling holes punctuated the artwork.
Holmes's heart sank as he realized he had no idea what to do.
"Plug…" Watson mumbled.
"Plug," Holmes repeated. He seized Watson's shirt again and tore a sleeve off, creating strips and shoving them gingerly into the bullet wounds. The doctor cried out in pain. "Be quiet," Holmes demanded.
"Holmes…."
"Shut up, Watson! Hold your tongue!"
Watson closed his eyes and swallowed.
"You idiot," Holmes muttered as he shrugged off his coat and pulled off his own shirt. He shredded it and began wrapping the makeshift bandages around Watson's torso. "You bloody, bloody idiot."
The air fell to silence. The only sounds to be heard was Watson's labored inhaling and exhaling, the ripping of cloth, and Holmes berating the doctor under his breath.
Before long, Watson spoke.
"You can s-stop, Holmes," he said hoarsely. "You're only…ruining your shirt."
"Forget the shirt!" Holmes snapped. "I told you to hold your tongue!"
As he had so many times before, Watson ignored him. "Holmes…take care of Mary."
"No! I won't! I'll let her starve!"
Watson smiled. "No you won't. T-Take care of…her. And you can…h-have the dog too…" Watson added.
"I don't want the bloody dog!" Holmes snarled. "I'll kill him, I swear I will!"
Watson chuckled quietly. "And my sword…."
"I'll lop off my ear!" Holmes yelled.
"You'd look…better…that w-way…."
"Watson, I don't want your things," Holmes said, sounding desperate. "I want you to have your things…you have your whole life back home, waiting for you at home…." He swallowed, pushing all his weight on Watson's wounds, trying to stop them from taking his best friend. "Mary, what about Mary? You're just going to leave her? You haven't even had any children!"
"Stop, Holmes…" Watson sighed tiredly, "…you know it won't…d-do any good…tell Mary I love her."
"Watson, don't go…" Holmes pleaded.
"I love you…my brother…."
The doctor gave his friend one last blue-eyed grin and took his final breath, a small smile still peering from behind the moustache.
Sherlock Holmes held his brother's body and cried.
Wanna chew me out? Hit the little review button! o3o