A/N: Awkay, this idea's been swelling in my head for a while and today it just forced its way out. (chuckles)

WARNINGS: Language, a hint of gore… Woah! Now that's a stunningly short list. (gawks)

DISCLAIMER: If I DID own a bloody thing series three would've been upon us ages ago. (pouts) But probably not even half as good so I'll forgive those guys. As soon as I see series 3, of course. (smirks)

TAKES PLACE: After Sherlock's return.

It's REALLY late and I should be in bed already. Soooo… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

HEAVILY INSPIRED BY 'The Scientist' from Coldplay.

The Scientist's Heart

It was one of those things that should've never, ever happened. Of course it'd been obvious from the very beginning that the risk came along with the work. But still, that blood – his blood – should've never, ever stained the pavement.

The clock just hit ten in the evening when DI Gregory Lestrade was approached by a alarmingly pale, trembling Sally Donovan. Her voice was barely above a whisper but still he heard all too clearly. "There's… Someone's been shot."

The first thing that crossed Greg's mind was 'Sherlock!'. The detective was, after all, the one who usually dashed head first after any criminal, consequences and danger be damned. Greg was quickly proven mistaken.

As Greg sped right beside Sally to a small alleyway not all that far away the first thing he spotted was the pool of blood that appeared black and nauseating in the moonlight. Then his gaze swept towards the ambulance that'd already appeared. He was barely quick enough to catch a glimpse of a very familiar long black coat before the doors were slammed closed and the vehicle sped away. The sirens weren't on, which filled Greg's tense, worried and exhausted mind with a cautious shiver of hope.

He frowned, unable to tear his eyes away from the direction to which the ambulance disappeared. Sherlock had been standing on his own too feet. Then who…?

"I'm not sure what happened, but… I heard a gunshot and Sherlock scream." Not 'freak'. There'd been no 'freaks' since the genius returned from the death. Sally appeared to be a little bit more in control over herself when she went on. Her arms were folded defensively to her chest. Her eyes kept straying towards the vehicle's former direction. "When I got here John was down. Shot to the leg. There was bleeding but I don't know how much. He was conscious, though. And talking. That's… good, right?"

Greg didn't respond, mostly because he didn't feel like being comforting at the moment. He swallowed thickly, a unpleasant taste rising to his throat. Worry formed a tight, massive ball into his stomach. "And the killer?"

"Also down. Henderson's taking him to the hospital, too. A broken nose, most likely a concussion, potential broken ribs, a lot of swelling and bruising on the face." Sally didn't sound appalled or displeased by the matter. "Sherlock's lucky if he's not charged."

Greg wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, curse, cheer or groan. "Jesus Christ…!" He blinked rapidly, the exhaustion and concern making his shoulders slump. The paperwork on this one is going to be a nightmare…, a tiny part of him whined. "How long did it take you to get here?"

Sally replied without a beat of hesitation. "A minute and twenty-six seconds." He wasn't sure if the exact number or the glint of amusement in her eyes was what made him hide a smile.

The moment of relief lasted until Greg's eyes fell on the blood once more. He gulped, fighting the urge to recoil a step. It wasn't that he would've been wondering how much of it there was. It was that he knew all too well. "I should go to the hospital", he sighed, running a hand through his shortcut hair. "For the statements." Of course they both knew that it wasn't the real reason. Neither of them was Sherlock bloody Holmes but they were trained members of the police force. "Which hospital was John taken to?"

Sally's face tightened. She gritted her teeth. "Bart's."

Greg winced. Since Sherlock's return things had been… tense between the detective and his blogger. They did work on cases together and John still blogged but it was easy to tell that there was a massive amount of unresolved things between them. Going there, to the place where John hadn't set his foot even once since the fall, was bound to rouse some unpleasant memories and feelings. And Greg was very aware of how badly Sherlock handled such instances.

He sighed, feeling old and worn all of a sudden. "Collect whatever evidence you manage to find. Try to make some sense out of this. Contact me if necessary."

"I will." He was already almost out of earshot when she went on. "Sir? If there's any… development… Let us know, yeah?"

Despite the highly unpleasant events Greg just had to smile right there. "Sure", he promised softly. "Now, I'd better go and make sure that Sherlock won't end up driving the whole place's staff crazy."

John told Greg once, when particularly drunk, that there was an occasion when he prayed fate for a one more miracle. There, walking towards his car in a unexpected cold breeze and the visual of the blood not leaving his head for even a second, Greg found himself doing something quite similar.

The hospital was busy when Greg made it there and it took him a while to convince a particularly strict nurse into believing that he was someone who could be safely led to the direction of Dr. John Watson. He wasn't surprised to discover that the former soldier had been granted a private room. Mycroft Holmes' doing, no doubt.

Something warned Greg to approach with caution. Without making a sound he paused by the room's ajar door and peered in. What he discovered inside made absolutely all of him fill with warmth.

John wasn't only conscious and speaking but also smiling. The doctor's voice barely carried to where he stood. "…'lock, stop. If I wasn't pumped so full of meds that pacing and staring would give me a bloody headache."

The mentioned Holmes glared at his companion. "How do you propose I should do that when everyone around here is a infuriating imbecile? Do they even know how to prepare you for the surgery properly?"

John stared at Sherlock. And right there the understanding that Greg had reached four months ago, a week after the detective's return, finally dawned. Some of the ever present hurt faded away along with the resentment that'd been lingering right there below the surface.

At last John saw.

"I'll be alright, Sherlock."

Sherlock snorted, looking very much like a pouting child. But the man's pacing stopped. Perhaps he saw the change as well. "Don't be an idiot, John. You have absolutely no data to support that hypothesis."

John looked directly into Sherlock's eyes. And somehow, although the smaller man seemed to be fast on his way to passing out, those eyes were so full of conviction that only a fool would've questioned it. "I promise."

Sherlock stood absolutely still for exactly six seconds before making up his mind. Greg nearly held his breath when the genius finally moved. Without saying a word Sherlock slumped with a great deal of grace to the chair beside John's bed and, never bothering to ask for a permission, began to flip through the documents John's doctor had forgotten. As John's eyes began to flutter closed Sherlock's free hand twitched to motion. The genius most likely didn't even notice how his hand grabbed John's, long fingers finding their way easily to the other's pulse point. The only sounds in the room came from the machine monitoring John's vitals and the papers Sherlock's was going through. Greg had never, ever witnessed such peace in his life.

Feeling like he'd been intruding Greg turned around and began to walk away, checking the time as he went. It was a minute past midnight. The beginning of a new day. And somehow the world around the DI felt just a little bit more right.

He smiled on his way out of the hospital, deciding that the statements could wait just fine until the morning.

End.

A/N: (grins) I just had to get this one out. And for the record, I truly wish that series 3 introduces that kind of Donovan. I prefer to believe in the goodness of people, after all.

Sooo… (gulps) Good? Bad? Absolutely horrid? PLEASE, do let me know! It's always a bit nerve wrecking to unleash a 'baby' into the world so your opinion would mean A LOT.

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Perhaps I'll be seeing ya again…?

Take care!