'Please John, don't die.' This is the only thought running through my head as I listen to the steadily beeping machines surrounding me, all of them mapping out a heartbeat that was gradually beginning to fade away to nothing. A shudder runs down my back and a hollow pit of emptyness opened within his stomach, doubling me over with its sheer intensity. Why are emotions so painful? If I had known I never would have allowed a friendship to develop between me and John Watson. Not that I think I could have stopped it. Despite my best attempts to keep him out John had somehow managed to break through my defences and make an impact on me. I curse quietly to myself. Because of my own stupid weakness John is hurt and it is all my fault. If he dies I will never forgive myself. I breathe deeply a few times in an attempt to calm myself but it does not work. Instead I bury my head in my hands to hide the tears dripping down my cheeks. Why did this have to happen? John does not deserve to die. If it should be anyone lying in a hospital bed bleeding out it should be me...I'm the one who Moriarty was after. I clench my fists, feeling anger rising within me. Jim Moriarty- the Consulting Criminal. Until he came along everything had been so much simplier. From the moment I began to suspect that he was involved I should have warned John, at least told him what to look out for. Maybe if I had Moriarty would never have been able to kidnap him and hold him hostage by forcing him to wear an explosive vest. I can still remember all the well the moment I entered the silent, empty swimming pool and found John standing before me.
At first I had been shocked. Could John be the one behind this sadistic game? But then events had all too horribly become clear when Moriarty himself had appeared, taunting me and threatening to "burn the heart" out of me. Because of my new weakness when it came to emotions I found myself actually hoping it was all over when he had abruptly left, giving me the oppotunity to tear the explosive vest from John. A small smile quirks up the side of my mouth as I remember what John had said it me then, "I'm glad no-one saw that. You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk," but it quickly vanishes again. My hope had been short lived because, predictably, Moriarty had returned. A strangled sound halfway between a sob and a gasp escapes me. Instead of panicking or pleading with Moriaty to spare us John had looked at me with trusting eyes and nodded, showing me that I could do what needed to be done. Numbly I stare down at my hands. Surely I could have come up with a better solution than that? Even now, several hours later, I can still feel the heavy weight of the gun in my hand, feel my finger tightening on the trigger...
Damn it! Despite all my grand boasts and my displays of intellect I had in a moment of crisis done the predictable, what anybody else would have done. Sure there were sniper's pointing their guns at us but I am sure I could have found another way if I had just thought about it for a while. No, that's not true. I did not have the luxary of time. It was either react or die. Though I know this to be true I still feel a wave of anger towards myself rise within me. Some consulting detective I make. Sure I can link up obscure clues and solve difficult crimes but none of those skills had helped me against Moriarty. Because of me and my decision John is injured and might not recover. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, pausing when I notice the white bandage wrapped around it.
The explosion had been bigger than I was expecting. Much bigger than the size of the explosive vest suggested. Wincing in pain I squeese my eyes shut as images crowd my mind. Though I have tried to block the memories out I find myself remembering the sheer force of the explosion blasting me backwards off my feet- of hitting the water of the pool and plunging beneath the surface- sinking into icy cold water that had taken my breath away... A shudder runs down my spine. I suck in a raggard breath that abruptly changes into a cough when I begin to choke. Panic flares through me. What is going on? I am sitting in a hospital, not drowning in an icy pool. I try to tell myself it is nothing but a memory but intense pain stabs through my chest, causing the edges of my vision to momentarily fade to black. My breathing becomes desperate as I struggle to suck any air into my lungs. All of a sudden I begin to feel afraid and uncertain. What the hell is happening to me?!
I choke again, this time tasting tangy iron as a thick, warm liquid fills my mouth. Dimly, as though it is coming from a great distance away from me, I hear urgent voices shouting yelling for aid but I ignore them. The only thing I am able to focus on is John's concerned face hovering above me, which is odd because I could have sworn he was lying in a hospital bed with shrapnel wounds to his chest... Even though my vision is blurry I am able to see the fear in his eyes. I try to say something, to reassure him that every will be okay but the agonising pain in my chest makes even the smallest of sounds impossible. Moving is also something I am not even going to attempt.
The steady beeping I heard earlier has now become a stuttering whine which is growing ever fainter; the universal symbol that somewhere close by somebody's life is slowing drifting away. I am not able to dwell on that thought for long however because suddenly, without any warning, the pain in my chest increases, crashing over me in never-ending waves that I fear will eventually drown me completely. I gasp again and cough violently enough to leave me feeling weak and empty once it has passed. When I briefly glance down I am alarmed to see spots of scarlet blood dotting the previously pristine sheets. At least now I understand why John looked so afraid. A feeling of tiredness tugs at my eyelids, incredibly persistent despite my attempts to fight it off. A yawn escapes me. What was I so worried about? It can not have been anything important if I am unable to remember it. Oh well, maybe it will come back to me after a sleep. This latest case had been incredibly draining. Near me the beeping pulse of the heart monitor grows quieter and less frequent- something for which I am glad because it was beginning to get on my nerves, despite what the dying noise signifies. I relax, all of the tension draining from my body. It can not hurt to rest for a while...