My very, very first fanfiction. It's very short and not very original. Still, enjoy!
A gunshot, followed by a muffled groan. I quickly turned around, allowing the criminals we'd been hunting to escape.
"John!"
Oh god. Oh no. Panic obstructed my throat as I saw what I'd been fearing for. He wasn't dead yet, but he didn't respond to my voice anymore. "John! John, no, no don't die. Oh god. John!". Tears were streaming down my face as I pressed my right hand against the wound. Sentiment. He was dead now. I knew it, I had had my left hand on his wrist the whole time. John Watson was dead. No goodbyes, no heroic last words. Just like that, he had died, while I was holding him. He'd made me more human. I knew that too, because I almost choked in sobs, clutching the short soldier's body. I was behaving completely irrational. There was no point in holding a body, it wasn't John anymore. John was gone. Still, the pain soared through my own body as I gasped for breath in between the sobs. I hadn't cried like this since I was a little child. The guard I had built up throughout the years fell away completely, all because of this one man. This wonderful, brave man. My blogger. Oh god, I felt so…helpless. John had been shot and I hadn't been able to save him. How would I ever forgive myself? Everything around me seemed to fade away. Nothing around me mattered anymore anyway. I buried my face in his hair, almost sick from crying. I didn't even notice the sirens of the ambulances and police cars arriving at what now was a crime scene. "Sherl-..oh god" Lestrade put his hand on my shoulder as I slowly rose up, letting go of John. They put a blanket on me while I tried to regain my composure. I didn't even try to throw it off. I didn't even reject Lestrade hugging me. There wasn't a point in anything anymore, I thought while looking at my hands, drenched with John's blood. And I feared there might never be a point in anything anymore.