Sherlock and John are twins drabbles.
Filler
Author's note: Hiya, if you've only just found this story, then you need to read my 'Sherlock and John are twins' story first and you will understand what is going on in this one. This is basically a missing scene from my main story 'Sherlock and John are twins' (set in chapter 22)! Enjoy! Please review! I will continue to update proper drabbles of their lives as twins together on this. Please review! Thank you!
As the countdown counted down, John sat down on his chair and sighed.
"You're going to be fine." Rose said and rubbed his back.
"I'm not worried about dying." John said.
"Then what is it?" Rose asked.
"Will everything change now we know?" John asked.
"A bit." Hamish said.
"But probably for the better." Rose reassured him.
John nodded.
Suddenly the screen changed to Moriarty's face, but there was still the numbers counting down in the corner.
"I'm bored. So I want to watch some more telly." He said with a mischievous grin.
John groaned.
The screen changed, the countdown stayed but there was an image of Sherlock at the age of 5, it must have been after the separation. He stood at the top of a flight of stairs in his home.
"I want to feel something." He said.
Then he looked down at the bottom.
"Oh god." John muttered.
"No, please say he didn't." Harry said.
Sherlock threw himself forward and he tumbled down the stairs. The whole room held their breath.
Half way down the long stairs Mycroft ran out of a room from downstairs.
"Sherlock!" he cried out and rushed to stop his brother from falling. He caught him just before he reached the bottom.
The recording changed to Sherlock sat on a kitchen counter with Mycroft wiping away some blood from his cheek.
"Why did you do it, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.
"I wanted to feel something. I feel... numb. I wanted to feel something, even if it was pain." Sherlock whispered.
The recording changed to John, who was sat at a desk at the age of five. He was writing and concentrating very hard.
Harry came to stand next to him and said "What are you doing, John?" she asked.
"I'm writing a letter, Harry." John replied.
"Who to?" she asked.
"Sherlock, of course! I'm not very good at writing, but Sherlock could always read it." John said.
"Don't be stupid, John, you're not allowed to write to him." Harry said.
John put his pencil down and looked angrily up at Harry.
"That's not true." He said shakily.
"John-"John cut her off.
"I don't like you anymore." He said and got off the chair. As he started to walk away he looked back at Harry, raised his hand and gave her back a smack.
"MUMMY! JOHN HIT ME!" Harry shouted.
"John Hamish Holm- Watson, you come here right now!" Rose's voice sounded through the room.
"That's not my name! My name is John. Hamish. Holmes!" John screamed.
Rose walked into the room and picked John up who struggled.
"I want you to stop this appalling behaviour, young man." She said and placed him on the bottom step of the stairs.
"You will stay here for five minutes then you will apologise to Harry and me." She said and walked to Harry who stood watching John.
"I don't like any of you!" John shouted and stood up and started jumping on the stairs and screaming "I want Sherlock! I want Daddy! I want Mycroft!" again and again.
Rose gave him a sharp look. He glared and said "You took my Sherlock away from me. I will never forgive you, mummy."
Rose looked heartbroken and John ran upstairs.
The five year old slammed his door and picked up a china ornament and chucked it at his wall with a scream.
Rose ran upstairs at the noise of her son screaming and the china smashing.
She opened the door to find John in the centre of his room, on his back, kicking and slamming his hands on the floor, he had completely flipped out. When he started banging his head on the floor Rose struggled to pick him up. She ended up knelt on the floor with John sat on her lap, sobbing brokenly.
"Ssshh, honey, it's alright. Everything will be okay." She consoled him.
"NO! NO IT WON'T!" John screamed.
Rose sighed and looked lost.
Then John had made himself so hysterical that he began gagging.
Rose couldn't do much more than rub John's back and talk to him comfortingly as he threw up on the floor.
The screen changed to Sherlock and John. This was a clip from before they were separated. They lay in their separate beds, facing each other.
"Sherlock?" John asked.
"John?" Sherlock replied.
"Will you be my best friend forever, no matter what happens?" John asked.
Sherlock sat up, climbed out of bed and got into John's. John moved over so they lay facing each other but closer for comfort.
"You'll always, always be my best friend. Will you be mine?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. And we'll be together forever too. When we have to leave home I want to live with you." John said.
"I want that too. We can have a home all on our own. It'll be our place. Just ours." Sherlock said with a smile.
"We could tell everyone else to go away. No-one but mummy and daddy can come in. And maybe My and Harry if they're nice." John said.
"And we'd never be lonely because we'll always have each other." Sherlock said.
"Yes. If we have each other then we'll never ever be lonely. We don't need anybody else." John said.
"John, let's sing the lullaby!" Sherlock said with an excited grin.
"Yeah!" John said, equally excited.
"When the sun comes, you're my shade. When the moon comes you're a little firefly. And I love you more than I can say. And I'll never fly away." Sherlock sang.
"I'm your firefly. I'm your shade. I wanna live in the house that we made. I wanna love you every day. And I'll never fly away." John sang back.
They laughed and their door opened.
Hamish walked in.
"Hey, what are you two doing up, my little rascals? And what are you doing in John's bed, Sherlock?" Hamish asked.
"Can he stay, please, daddy!" John pleaded. Sherlock nodded.
"Well okay, but just this once. Mummy wants you to start sleeping in your own beds." Hamish said.
"Hey, Sherlock, when we live together and we're older we can buy one big bed and share it." John said.
The older John groaned as sniggers ran around the room.
"Yeah!" Sherlock said with as much enthusiasm as his twin.
"Can I just clarify that we have separate beds!" Sherlock said from the kitchen.
"What are you two talking about?" Hamish asked.
"We want to live together when we're big people, daddy!" John said.
"Well that's a lovely idea. Now, beddy-byes, sleepy-time. No more chatting." Hamish said and kissed their temples and left.
"Night night, Sherlock, I love you." John said.
"Goodnight John, I love you too." Sherlock said and they closed their eyes.
The screen changed back to Moriarty. "Awww, look at you two." Moriarty teased.
"Are you aware that you both have comfort blankets made from each other's t-shirts? Go on John, go and get yours or I'll shoot Sherlock. And Sherlock, go and get yours or I'll shoot John." Moriarty raised his voice so it travelled to the kitchen where Sherlock was working.
Sherlock didn't protest, he just got up, walked to his bedroom and people could hear him rummaging around in cupboards. John sighed and pulling the oxygen tank with him, he made his way to his own bed room where his childhood comfort blanket that he had placed in one of his drawers.
Sherlock walked to the living room, placed a blue and white chequered shirt fit for a four year old down on his and John's seat and then turned to face Moriarty. John came down quickly after with a purple and white chequered t-shirt only slightly bigger than Sherlock's 'blanket'.
"Aw, I remember this, you'd never go anywhere without it, John." Harry commented, standing along with Mycroft to look at the two t-shirts.
"Neither would you, Sherlock. If I remember correctly you took it to University." Mycroft said with a smirk.
"You can't embarrass me, Mycroft. I honestly couldn't care less whether I had a comfort blanket. At least I didn't turn to food for comfort. Mine was a healthy comfort." Sherlock stated rudely.
"Okay, Sherlock, that's enough." Hamish warned.
"You see, My, John's much easier to embarrass. I do believe he took his to University too." Harry said with a smug smile.
John frowned and his cheeks flushed.
"I could die soon and you're still trying to take the mick out of me." John said.
"Yes, Moriarty is that all you wanted, because I really must get back to what I was doing." Sherlock said.
"No, I want you to take a five minute break and watch something, or I'll just shoot John." Moriarty said.
Sherlock sighed, picked up his comfort blanket and sat down. John, already holding his sat down next to Sherlock while Harry and Mycroft took their seats.
The screen changed to a twenty year old Sherlock with gingery blonde straight hair, which made him look a lot more like Hamish, jeans and a nice shirt.
"Your hair!" Anderson said in surprise.
Sherlock sighed in annoyance at Anderson and everyone turned back to the screen.
Sherlock was sat in an empty room against a door.
"I'm not an animal, Mycroft! You can't keep me locked up here. I'm not your prisoner!" Sherlock shouted.
The screen switched so that you could see both of them on either side of the screen sat on the different sides of the door.
"This is for your own good, Sherlock." Mycroft said.
"I need the drugs, Mycroft, I need them! You don't understand what it's like in my head!" Sherlock shouted.
"John would have known." Mycroft said.
"What?" Sherlock asked, Mycroft hadn't said it loudly enough for Sherlock to hear.
"I said that soon your body will feel odd. Like a drunk person, you're about to sober up. The drugs are leaving your body." Mycroft said.
This made Sherlock completely flip. He stood up and started slamming himself against a wall shouting "THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT ISN'T IT, MYCROFT? I'LL KILL MYSELF! I DO NOT FEAR DEATH! IT WILL BE A RELEASE FROM ME!"
Mycroft walked away and checked the cameras he had installed in the room. When Sherlock started ramming his head against the wall he ran down the corridors and opened and shut the door.
He pulled Sherlock away from the wall and into his lap. Sherlock had blood dripping over his face.
"Ssshh, little brother, sleep." Mycroft said.
Sherlock's eyes closed and he was gripping onto Mycroft's hand. With another hand he drew letters onto his brother's hand subconsciously.
The screen changed to Mycroft walking to Hamish.
"I saw what you had to do. Thank you for stopping him. What was he writing on your hand; he was writing something on your hand, what was it?" Hamish asked.
"Dad-"Mycroft hesitated.
"Tell me. I need to know." Hamish urged.
"John. He was writing the word John." Mycroft said.
"C-Can I go and see him?" Hamish asked.
"He's sleeping." Mycroft said but nodded.
Hamish opened the door and slipped in.
Sherlock lay on the floor. Blood on his face and in his hair. His plain pyjamas covered in it too.
Hamish knelt next to Sherlock looking broken. He lifted his youngest son up in his lap so Sherlock's upper half was resting against his dad.
"I'm so sorry, my son, I've failed you. I was blinded by grief of the loss of them and relief that I had you. I didn't see how bad you'd got." Hamish said. He knew Sherlock couldn't hear him.
Sherlock started talking in his sleep.
"John looks after me." Sherlock said.
"Sorry?" Hamish asked.
"Sometimes you can have a conversation with Sherlock when he's asleep." Hamish told everyone.
"John looks after me. He always will. He loves me. He's there. I see him all the time. But I never know his name until I'm sleeping. Then when I wake up I forget who he is. He's just my friend. My only friend. That's why I need the drugs." Sherlock said.
"What, so, you take the drugs and you see John? What does he look like?" Hamish asked.
"Yes, I see him. He's five years old, but he looks younger. He makes me smile and he keeps me sane. Don't make him go away, please." Sherlock whispered his last word.
"I'm sorry. The drugs are killing you, son." Hamish said sadly.
"No, no, no, no..." Sherlock said and stopped talking.
The screen changed.
John was about fifteen years old and he sat on a wall in between two other boys his age.
"Oh come on, John! How can you like classical? Violins are so boring, mate!" One boy said while the other laughed.
"Sherlock likes it, he's good at it and therefore I like it too." John justified himself.
The two boys stopped laughing.
"Who's Sherlock?" the other one asked.
John frowned "Who's who? Sorry, what are you talking about Dan?" John asked.
The screen changed to John at the age of sixteen, he was stood in a doorway watching Rose, who was writing a letter.
"Mum." He said.
She looked up and smiled "John." Then she frowned "What's wrong?"
John approached her and said "I feel... off. I don't know, it's like, I can't breathe but I know I am. Make it stop, mum, I don't understand." John looked panicked. The screen changed again to Sherlock at the same age, he was sat at a desk in his bedroom and was frowning.
Hamish walked in and started saying something but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Sherlock's face.
"Son?" he called out and approached Sherlock.
"Make it stop." Sherlock said, looking up.
"Make what stop?" Hamish looked deeply concerned.
"I can breathe, but I can't. I don't like it and I don't understand." Sherlock said.
The screen changed to Sherlock at the age of four. A boy a little older than him pushed him over and onto the concrete ground of the playground.
Suddenly John stood in front of Sherlock with his arms crossed.
"Don't you hurt my brother." John said defiantly.
"And you're going to stop me? That freak deserves it, trying to be smarter than me!" The boy protested."
"I will stop you. And he is not a freak!" John said bravely.
"How are you thinking of stopping me then?" The bully said.
John scowled at him, then drew back and punched the boy in the nose.
The boy screeched and a teacher came running and quickly made sure the other boy was unhurt, a girl offered to take him to the school nurse and the teacher turned to face John and Sherlock. John was helping Sherlock off the ground and they gave each other a hug.
"And what on Earth did you do that for, John Holmes?" she asked strictly.
Sherlock and John drew away and John said "He called Sherlock a freak. And he pushed him over." John said.
"Is this true?" the teacher asked.
Sherlock nodded and said "John was helping me."
"But punching and hitting is not the answer. John, you will come with me to the head master." The teacher said.
"No! He was being good. The bully should go to the head masters. This is wrong!" Sherlock exclaimed and grabbed onto John's arm.
"No arguments." The teacher said.
"Can I come too?" Sherlock asked.
"Alright." The teacher said and led them to the office. The screen faded out and then back in and they were sat in between Hamish and Rose and sat opposite the headmaster.
"Hitting and kicking and punching is a serious thing, John. I cannot allow you to get away without a punishment." The headmaster said.
"Excuse me, but my son was only protecting his brother. This is wrong, what about the other boy who started all of this?" Hamish asked, he had an arm around John, who was gripping onto his dad's jacket.
"He will be punished too. But we must teach them that violence isn't the answer." The headmaster said.
"I don't like you." Sherlock said loudly to the headmaster.
"That may be, young man, but I must reinforce the rules." The headmaster said.
"You're mean. When I grow up, I will be better than you." Sherlock said.
Rose tried to hush her son but Sherlock jumped off the chair and said "John was being nice and good and you're punishing him. That boy was standing in a way that meant that he was going to hurt John, he would have done worse and he won't have a big punishment because he's got a bloody nose." Sherlock exclaimed.
The headmaster sighed and said "John will be suspended for a few days, as this is what happens to any student who punches, kicks or slaps. Jeremy will receive a lunch time detention for two days because he did not use violence and no adult saw him push you."
"I'm not coming to school if John isn't! I will teach him!" Sherlock said defiantly.
"Honey, you will come to school." Rose said gently.
"No I will not. And I don't want to come to this school either; I want to go to a better school." Sherlock said seriously.
"Harry and Mycroft both did very well at this school, Sherlock. And that isn't your decision to make." Hamish said.
Sherlock looked completely distraught and he did what he felt was best. He had a proper toddler tantrum, and he was four.
He threw himself to the floor and screamed, kicking and screaming and rolling around on the ground.
Hamish tried to stop John, but the small boy knelt next to Sherlock and pinned his arms down. Sherlock stopped and looked up at John.
"No, Sherlock." John said.
"I don't want to be away from you, John." Sherlock said quietly.
"It is only for a few days." John said.
Sherlock sat up and pulled John into a hug and said loudly "I want to go home." And burst into tears.
Rose gently separated the two and picked Sherlock up, bouncing him and rubbing the emotional boy's back.
Hamish picked John up and looked to the teacher "We will contact you when we have talked about this in private."
They walked out and Sherlock was saying through his tears "I don't want John to be away from me... Please... They'll be mean, they're always mean... and I won't have a friend." Sherlock cried.
Rose shushed him and the screen faded in and out till the two school uniformed boys were lay side by side on the couch, sleeping soundly. Hamish was pacing while Rose sat next to them.
"We can't let them go back there. You heard what Sherlock said, they're mean to him. He's bullied there, Rose!" Hamish said worriedly.
"But why didn't he say so before?" Rose asked.
"Because he had John. Because John was his friend, and when you have friends who protect you, which John does, then it probably isn't so bad. Come on, you remember Harry and Mycroft, they'd come home every day talking about their friends. John and Sherlock both do not do that. They just tell us what they do, and they have never told me about something that they did on their own, separately, they've always been together. But Sherlock is bullied. I presume because of his intellect." Hamish finished and added "We can't let them go back."
Rose nodded and said "Well, where else can they go?"
"Maybe we could get them a tutor, or we could send them to another school, it'll just be a bit further away." Hamish suggested.
"A tutor will be fine until we can find a better school." Rose finalised and said "Go and tell Harry and Mycroft it is dinner time - I think the chips will be done, they've been up playing in their room for ages."
Hamish walked out and Moriarty reappeared on the screen "Oh, so much drama with you two!"
"That was very kind of you, John. Not many people stick up for me." Sherlock said.
"Well, it's fine, assuming the fact that you had a tantrum for me." John said, making them both laugh.
Sherlock stood and said "I must go now." And returned to the kitchen.
"You both seem so human." Anderson said.
"We both are." John scowled.
"Yes, no, I mean, Sherlock seemed so... normal, despite his intellect." Anderson said.
"Are you saying he isn't normal?" John scowled.
"John, we really don't need a repeat of what we just saw on the screen." Harry commented.
John silenced her with a hand and continued to frown at Anderson "Just because I haven't punched you or Donavon in the face for calling him a freak and you insinuation that he isn't human, it doesn't mean I don't feel angry when you do. Before all this, at crime scenes, you called him 'freak', now I may not have known him to be my brother, but he was my best friend, I was and still am extremely annoyed at your rude comments toward him." John said.
"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" Sally asked.
"Because I'm not four any more and because I see that Sherlock has his own come-backs ready for you." John said.
"Calm down, my dears." Moriarty said "Tick tock, not long till the good doctor dies."
The counter was at Fifteen minutes left.
John frowned.
"I'm nearly finished." Sherlock mouthed to John who smiled in relief.
"We've still got time for some more scenes though." Moriarty said.
John sighed and Hamish said "It'll be alright, son." John nodded.
The screen changed to John, he wore surgeons clothing and had blood all over him. He was in some medical camp.
"Oh God." John said.
"DR WATSON, OVER HERE!" A soldier shouted.
John rushed forward to see a soldier placed on a bed, the person had bullet holes in his stomach, and more the a few. The wounded was young and still awake.
John smiled reassuringly at him before inspecting the wounds.
"Doctor... Doctor..." the young man choked out.
John gave a list of equipment he would need and nurses rushed off, then John turned his attention to the man.
"Hello there. Do you want to tell me your name?" John asked gently.
"... Stephens..." he choked out.
"First name, Stephens." John said with a small smile.
"Myles..." The man said.
"Alright, then, Myles, great name, I haven't met many Myles'. You're going to be fine. I'm going to give you some pain relief and I'll fix you right up." John said.
"What's... your... name?" Myles asked shakily.
"My name is John." John greeted him.
"Distract me... please, it hurts... tell me... about... you... I need... to concentrate... on some...thing!" Myles spluttered.
"Alright, alright, Myles I need you to stay calm and to stay still. I'm sure the nurses will be back with what I need soon." John said.
"Please..." Myles said.
"Okay... I don't know... I'm a bit common, John Watson, I wanted to be a doctor and a soldier, so I thought, hey, why can't I be both?" John said.
"Living the dream..." Myles almost laughed.
"Living the dream. I want to make a difference, and I'll do that by making sure you are okay today, Myles. Because you seem like a brave lad." John said.
"You... think?" Myles asked.
"Oh yeah, Myles Stephens, you're going to be great. So you just stay with me now." John was getting panicked, Myles' eyes were drooping and the small bandages already applied to stop the blood flow were doing little good now. John turned to the crack in the tent curtain and shouted "I need what I asked for NOW!"
John turned back to Myles and Myles grabbed his hand "Don't leave me, please, don't leave... me." Myles pleaded.
"I won't." John on the screen and John in the living room said.
Everyone looked at John in concern.
"Doctor Watson, three other wounded have been brought in, there aren't enough nurses." A soldier popped there head through the curtain and then ducked out again.
John's face fell and he closed his eyes. A few moments later they snapped open "Right then, Myles, I need you to stay awake and I need to take you to another part of this medical camp. But I'm going to have to carry you. I can get you pain relief there and I can get you patched up, how's that?" John asked.
"...O...Kay..." Myles said.
John slipped an arm under Myles' knees and his back and then lifted.
Myles screamed out and gripped onto John's shoulders.
"It's alright, you're alright," John said and stopped moving.
"Bloody hell that hurt..." Myles mumbled.
"I'm going to start moving now, Myles. We're not too far away." John promised and quickly walked through the camp, moving around soldier's sick beds.
Once John put him down on a stretcher where a lot of medical supplies were, he got a syringe of pain relief and quickly inserted it into Myles.
Myles sighed in relief and John began patching him up.
"You remind me of a guy I knew in College." Myles said.
"Really? Who?" John asked.
"Didn't know him that well. Sher Home or something, weird name." Myles said.
"How do I remind you of him?" John asked.
"I don't know. He's very different from you. And nobody liked him, he was rather blunt with everyone. He was clever, though, like a proper detective. I don't know, you just... remind me of him." Myles said tiredly.
"You'll be fine, Myles. You can sleep now." John said.
The screen changed to John, curled up on a camp bed, gun shots could be heard all around.
"Is our shift soon?" John asked.
"Have you even slept?" A person asked from near him.
"How can I? You know what; I don't care if it isn't my shift. I'm going to go and help." John stood and left.
The screen changed again to John, who was not in his surgeon clothes, but in his soldier clothes. He had the medical band around his arm and was behind some sand bags, only a few people with him and with nothing but a hand gun.
John looked over the sand bags to the bare deserted land and squinted, he could see someone. The focus became clearer and it was obvious it was a child, standing in the middle of a barren desert, probably only about five years old.
"Oh, Christ." John said.
A few gun shots were fired from somewhere on the other side.
John looked around quickly and the others knew what he wanted to do "No, Watson." A soldier said.
"Captain Watson, if you move from behind here you will probably get killed. If you move you will be in serious trouble." A higher ranking officer warned.
John looked back at the child.
"I won't leave that child to die." John said defiantly and jumped over the sand bags and he ran as fast as he could towards the child, who looked lost and in distress at the sudden gun shots that were fired around as they noticed the soldier running.
John sprinted over to the child, quickly picked the small boy up and ran all the way back, luckily avoiding all of the bullets, he ducked back behind the sand bags and the child stared at the soldier from where he sat on John's lap.
The child leant forward and curled up in the army-doctor's arms.
"It's alright." John whispered as he got his breath back.
John looked over at the man who had told him to stay.
"Well done, Captain Watson." The man said.
"Thank you, sir." John said, thankful that the man had changed his mind.
The screen changed again and John was running around, he and another man were the only alive amongst dead bodies.
John stopped and looked around in horror.
"Check for survivors, Murray." John said.
The John in the living room started breathing raggedly.
Sherlock rushed in and started checking the oxygen tank.
"What's wrong? Are you finding it difficult to breathe, John?" Sherlock asked.
John didn't say anything, he just pointed at the screen just behind Sherlock.
Sherlock turned to look and saw his brother's face, full of horror as he checked each body, looking for survivors, but there were surely none.
"Any, Murray?" John asked.
"Murray? The Nurse that saved your life? Oh." Sherlock knew what was about to happen. He sat on the arm of John's chair and put a supporting arm around his shoulder.
"I don't understand." Anderson said.
"Just... shut up, Anderson." John said.
"Hey! Just because he's your brother doesn't mean you can be as nasty as him!" Anderson protested.
"OH MY GOD! SHUT UP, YOU PATHETIC MAN!" Harry practically screamed.
"What is all you guys' problem?" Anderson asked, everyone was glaring at him, they knew what was going to happen, even Donavon.
"I can't... I can't watch..." John said and tried to stand up, but a little red dot appeared at his shoulder and Moriarty's voice rang out "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He giggled.
John sat down.
Harry burst into tears at the same time as Rose. Hamish held onto Rose while Mycroft held onto Harry. Sherlock kept his hand on John's shoulder.
"I'm sure it will be okay, dears." Mrs Hudson attempted to comfort the family, but it did little to help.
"It won't... trigger one of your PTSD attacks, will it John?" Harry asked shakily.
John looked over to her and said "I don't know."
"John. Just stay in the present day. You're not there; you're here, in 221B Baker Street with me and everyone here." Sherlock said.
John nodded and they all turned back to the television.
John sighed and stood up. Murray was nowhere in sight. John looked so tired and sad. There was the sound of a gunshot and John swung around to find where the source is.
"Murray!" John whispered frantically and looked around. Murray walked towards John quickly and they stood side by side.
"Where is it coming from, sir?" Murray asked.
"I don't know. But we need to leave, and now." John urged.
Another gunshot was fired and they started running, John just behind Murray was getting his gun out.
The sound of running came from behind them, Murray continued to run, but John stopped and turned around.
All you could see was John's sweaty and tanned face, terror in his eyed, he was breathing quickly.
Then they saw the man running after him, he had a gun.
John started to run again and as a shot flew just past him John turned around, ready to shoot when a shot fired out.
John screamed and fell to the desert floor.
Murray, who was far ahead now, looked back and started running towards John.
John raised his gun one more time as blood began to pool around his shoulder. He pointed it at the man who shot it and shot him. It hit his heart and the man died instantly.
John dropped his gun and screamed in pain, holding onto his wound, his hands getting quickly bloody.
Murray knelt next to John.
"John! John, tell me what to do! I'm just a nurse, I don't know. Please, John, speak to me." Murray urged.
John now had blood all over his shoulder, on the floor, on his face when he'd touched it with his hand.
"Help me... please... Bill..." John said.
"What do you need me to do?" Bill asked.
John whimpered and said "Get the... bullet... out." John screamed again.
John in the living room was gripping onto his shoulder and Sherlock was trying to keep him calm.
"It's alright, John. It's just a scar now." Sherlock said.
Rose was in hysterics, Hamish was crying and Harry was crying silently. Mycroft had a look of terror on his face.
The wounded John started muttering "I'm going to die... oh my god; I'm going to die... Please..." John muttered and his eyes were drooping.
"No, John, stay with me. Keep your eyes open. JOHN!" Murray shouted.
John's eyes flickered open and Bill clutched his hand and looked at John intensely seriously.
"You're going to live. You are not dying today, John Watson. But I need you to stay awake." Bill said.
John screamed as Bill did as John said. John's screaming was continuous as Bill dug around in the wound to get the bullet out.
Soon enough it was out and Bill was pressing against the wound.
John was incoherent and tears were running down his face from the pain.
"It's alright, John. Stay with me." Murray said and picked John up.
John groaned and was quickly losing consciousness.
"I'll get you back to base. I promise you will be alright." Murray said and John said "Please... God, let me live." And his eyes fell shut as Bill broke into a run.
John fell in and out of consciousness through the run until he cried out "Sherlock!" and then fell into the darkness completely.
The screen changed to Sherlock, who was at a crime scene. He was fine and conversing with Lestrade. Then he suddenly doubled over, his hand pressing to his shoulder as he shouted out in pain. All the officers frowned and turned towards him.
Lestrade out a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and said "Sherlock? What's wrong?"
"Shoulder..." Sherlock grinded his teeth and Lestrade helped him sit down on the floor.
"Is there a medic here?" Lestrade called out.
"Ah, Ben, you have the best training, come here." Lestrade instructed.
An officer knelt next to Sherlock and tried to pry the consulting detectives hands away from his shoulders.
"Sherlock? Mr Holmes? I need to see your shoulder." Ben said.
Sherlock shook his head "Please, let him live."
"Let who live?" Lestrade asked in concern.
Sherlock stood up and staggered onto a road, hailing a cab.
"Sherlock, you need help!" Lestrade said.
"Sir, I don't understand. He's fine. There was no blood as far as he would let me see. And nothing hit him, you were there." Ben said to Lestrade.
Sherlock got into the cab, quickly said his destination and curled up in the back of the cab.
Moriarty reappeared.
"Time is running out." Moriarty said. The clock said 5 minutes left.
Sherlock ran back into the kitchen.
"I have one more thing to do. Then I'm done." Sherlock said.
John nodded and Rose rubbed her son's back to give him an extra comfort.
"You still in the here and now, sweetheart?" she asked.
"Yes. Just... don't leave me for a bit." John requested and Rose nodded and held onto his hand.
And the countdown continued.