Loosely based on this Tumblr post: post/83031997459/clockingcreativity-meetmeincalifornia
Enjoy!
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
His breath came out in panting spurts as he charged down the warehouse corridors away from the gunshots. The sounds were ringing in his ears, his eyes blazing with dust sprayed up from sprinting. From a gap through the roof, John Watson could see the darkened evening skies over London. They had been on this case for hours, drafting in DI Lestrade and his team when they realised just how serious this was. He had lost count of how many attackers were on their tail.
After arriving at the warehouse in the East of the city, John and Sherlock had split, pursuing suspects in opposite directions. All John had seen of Sherlock since then was the odd swoop of the greatcoat as it flew around a corner.
He flattened himself against a wall to catch his breath, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible, listening for footsteps around him.
Silence.
His head thumped and blood coursed through his veins.
You make me happy
When skies are grey
The sooner they could get this sorted and out of their way, the better. Maybe they could finally enjoy the sunshine instead of cursing it as they ran from place to place in searing heat. Bloody British heat wave.
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
John peeked out from his hiding place to glance around the building. There was no sign of anyone anywhere. He carefully took a step out, ensuring the debris around made no noise. With the stealth of a hunted deer, he quickly ran across to the cover of the metal shelves.
That's when he saw it.
The coat.
Checking his perimeters again, he legged it as fast and as quietly as possible towards the detective standing on the other side of the room on top of a large wooden crate.
John saw the man's fingers twitch with anticipation.
He was almost over to him, just about to pass across the open aisle of racking holding the stock.
Sherlock's eyes had just enough time to glance across to John's with recognition, one hand held up slightly, palm facing out, before the first bullet hit him.
John skidded to a halt before the opening behind the metal bars as Sherlock took three bullets and fell backwards off the crate.
This time it wasn't his decision how to go, gravity took over.
It took only seconds for John to pull out his gun and shoot straight through the gunman's skull. As soon as he dropped, John ran over to where Sherlock lay.
Three red holes scattered across his torso, his breathing erratic.
When John heard approaching footsteps, he turned, poised to shoot, to find Lestrade and two of his men hold up their hands in surrender.
Sherlock gasped as Lestrade called for medics.
John could only press on the wounds and hope as a tear fell unnoticed down his cheek.
Please don't take my sunshine away
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