What life? I don't currently have one ;) I tried to fetch all the typos out of the text but if there is still some, I am sorry.

have fun whilst reading and thanks Vicki again for the idea :D

Hard Choices

John was pacing back and forth in the corridor. He still saw it when he closed his eyes, Sherlock lying on the floor, blood flowing from his chest. At first he had thought that Sherlock was dead. Again. And again right in front of him, even if he had not seen how it happened this time.

He had collapsed on his knees, fervently praying that this time he would find a pulse. He had given CPR all the while pleading Sherlock to open his eyes, to stay with him, not really leaving him behind. He had pressed their lips together to blow air into Sherlock's lungs and he had only wanted to have one more chance to kiss those lips for real. Something he had always dreamed to do, something he had never dared to do.

Now, while pacing, he could only hope that he would get the chance still. He had Mary, he loved her, but he loved Sherlock too. And had loved him so much longer. And he was married to Mary so it was just fair that he would let Sherlock know how he felt about him, right? He rubbed his face

"Dear God" he now muttered to himself. He would give anything to have Sherlock survive this.

"Oh John, I came as quickly as I could" he heard a woman's voice. Mary's. He turned to greet her when she rushed to him and hugged him tightly "He will be fine." she tried to comfort him

"He must" he said brokenly. She just hugged her tighter and he rest his head on her shoulder.

"How about you sit down for a while?" she suggested, leading him to a chair. He allowed her to guide her there and sat down heavily. He was so tired. Sherlock's operation had lasted already two hours. Mary patted his hand but other than that they sat there quietly.

Later a doctor came to talk to him. He had fallen asleep and Mary tapped him awake. He blinked few times and rubbed his eyes and then surged up from his seat when he realized the doctor was standing there

"How is he?" he asked. The doctor smiled calmingly.

"He is stable for now. The situation is still critical, he had severe bleeding but we managed to fix it." he doctor drew a breath "But I have to tell you, his heart stopped for a moment. We already claimed him dead when his vitals suddenly returned." the doctor looked him in the eyes "Your friend is very strong. And very lucky"

he let out a snort that was partially sob

"Yes, that's Sherlock for you. Always doing the unexpected." He felt so relieved. Sherlock was still alive, he had survived the operation. He was a bit worried how the heart stop would affect Sherlock but he would just have to make sure that Sherlock would rest for now. "Thank you for saving him" he added and smiled to the doctor. The doctor just shook his head

"It would not have been possible if you had not done so good job with CPR" he shuddered when he was reminded of the terrifying moments " and had the paramedics not arrived so quickly"

he drew a deep breath

"Can I see him?"

"He is still sedated. He won't awake in a while"

"Yes. But still, can I see him?"

the doctor scratched his head

"I guess it would be okay. That way someone would be looking after him the whole time and notice any complications. And since you are a doctor yourself I think you would be a perfect companion for him" the doctor turned to Mary "But I am afraid it would be unwise to let there be too many people swarming around him"

Mary nodded

"I understand" then she got up too and sneaked a hand under his arm, giving it a squeeze "It's not me he needs right now. Just like it's not me that you need right now" she added with a sad smile

"Mary.." he started, heart clenching in his chest. He did not want Mary to feel second best. But she pressed a finger over his lips, silencing him

"I know. I understand. It's where you should be" She smiled warmly and kissed his cheek "I shall go home and bring you fresh clothes tomorrow, okay?"

He sighed and smiled back

"Yeah, thank you dear" he kissed her lips and then she let go of his arm and walked away with a wave of her hand. He waved back and when she exited the corridor he turned to the doctor.

"So, where is he?"

When he entered the room he was shocked to see Sherlock lying immobile on the bed. He was nearly as white as the sheet, his skin being much paler than usual. He slowly and carefully walked closer. It seemed wrong that Sherlock was that still and his hands weren't in their usual pose over his lips and chin.

"Oh Sherlock" he whispered quietly. "I should have never let you go there alone. I should have followed you. Or better yet, not allowed you to go there in the first place."

He barely noticed that his hand was again shaking when he reached out and gently moved Sherlock's dark locks away from his eyes. He couldn't stop himself from playing a bit with one lock before placing it down too. Then he let his index finger softly trace the beautiful cheekbone. Sherlock's skin was so soft, despite never protecting his skin in the winter weathers when they run along the London alleys.

"Sherlock. I know I have used my one miracle but please, please open your eyes and be okay. Please forgive me" he bit his lip and cleared his throat "Forgive me that I wasn't there to have your back." he finished, voice cracking and nearly not managing the final words. He notices Sherlock's hand lying on his side and carefully he picked it up and held it between his hands. He glanced around but the only chair was pulled close to the window, out of his current reach. And he did not want to let go of the hand until Sherlock woke up. So he stood there, staring at Sherlock, occasionally smoothing his hair. sometimes having to look away to keep the tears at bay for seeing his best friend lying there.

"Ah, if it isn't Doctor Watson"

He straightened up but still didn't let go of the hand. He relaxed when it was just Mycroft. Then his anger flared

"I hope you know who did this to him. Or better yet, I hope you have caught him already" he said, eyes flaming.

"Her, actually" Mycroft said in his usual manner. John frowned and Mycroft just looked at him, then his eyes moved on to Sherlock and hooking the umbrella over his hand Mycroft advanced closer to the bed "Dear brother, I had wished you would have learned to take better care of yourself" the British government turned to look at John "But I trust that whenever he fails it, you are there to pull him through." glancing at his brother once more he held out a folder to John. When John made no move to let go of Sherlock's hand he sighed and placed it on the bed, on top of Sherlock's legs. "I managed to get hold of some security camera feed. There is your culprit. I leave it to you to fix this situation" Mycroft finished and with his now free hand reached out to touch Sherlock. But before the hand was touching anything, Mycroft stopped and pulled the hand back "Get better soon, brother dearest"

And then Mycroft gave him a nod that he didn't react to and walked out, swinging his umbrella.

He looked down at Sherlock. The intubation tube in his mouth was disturbing. He had partly expected Sherlock to wake up just to snap at his brother. He once more caressed the sharp cheekbone and then reached for the folder. He opened it and glanced at the pictures. Then he stopped. Blinked and leaned in to look closer.

"No" he breathed out "No. No way" his hands were squeezing into tight fists when he felt the resistance of Sherlock's bones in his hand "Oh God. I am sorry Sherlock" He pressed his forehead against the pale hand "I'm so sorry" he whispered and closed his eyes.

Because it was Mary. His Mary who had shot Sherlock. It didn't matter that Sherlock survived, she had shot him. He did not know what she had been doing there but judging from her clothes she was not there in official business. He thought it was for the better, he did not like the idea that he had married and was living with a woman who would have anything to do with a man like Magnussen.

He snorted wetly. Well, apparently he had. Because Mary was there with a gun. Shooting Sherlock. His Sherlock. Even though she was very well aware how important the man was to him, she had seen him as the hollow shell that Sherlock's 'death' had made him. She had helped him come back to this world, even though it was not the same without Sherlock.

He lifted his head up and gave the hand a long kiss, before whispering against it, lips brushing against the pale skin with every word.

"She should have known better."

He got up and closed the folder

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I try to be back before you wake up". He gave Sherlock a soft smile, grabbed the folder and walked out. He informed the nurse he found that he would have to leave for a while and Sherlock needed his check ups. Then he walked out of the hospital and started walking home. He didn't bother with a cab, he needed a moment to think what all was wrong with his life.

The woman he loved the most had tried to kill the man he loved the most. But she was his wife. Angrily he hit the nearest wall, scratching his knuckles but he barely noticed it. He breathed out through his nose.

When he reached home he went straight indoors and headed to the bedroom. When he banged the door open Mary sat up in the bed

"John!" she exclaimed. "You scared me" she added, smiling a little, hand pressed against her chest. He stood in the doorway, trying to reign in his anger. After all, this woman was carrying his child. At least he wanted to believe it was his. He knew there was one because Sherlock had said so.

"Why" he choked out "Why did you do that?" he said.

"Do what?" she asked, throwing the blanked from her and she got out of bed

he glared her

"YOU SHOT HIM" he yelled. She sat back down on the bed.

There was a silence and neither of them moved. Finally he stepped into the room

"He nearly died" he spat. She blinked and he knew her eyes were misting but he ignored it.

"I... I avoided all the important organs" she said.

He huffed, sifting weight from foot to foot and looked up at the ceiling

"Avoided... you didn't think you could have just not shoot him? You.." he swallowed the next words and breathed out.

"I had to, he would not have let me go"

"And shooting was the only option you had? But Magnussen you just hit so he was found unconscious. For the last time, why did you shoot him?"

She was crying now, sobs wracking her body.

"Because I like him. But he is stealing you away. I know how you feel about him, everyone does but you. And if you would see how he looks at you, how jealous he is of your attention, you would know he feels it too, even though he claims to be sociopath." She wiped her cheeks and stood up, walking to him. He looked at her when she reached him and touched his arm "I love you John. I was just trying to do what would be best for our family." she said, taking a hold of his hand and pressing it against her stomach. He pulled it away and stepped back

"You are nothing like I imagined you to be. I really thought you were okay with Sherlock. And I thought you were sweet and normal person. What were you even doing there?"

"I have my past. Magnussen knows it and he would use it against me"

"What could he do? What does Magnussen matter?"he turned around

"Mary. Nothing what I heard makes me want to stay here. You are a liar, and a cruel killer. Sherlock's heart stopped for a while." he turned back to her "I loved you. I guess I still do, otherwise this would not feel so darn bad." he said and stepped out of the room

"He didn't die" she called after him, "that must count!"

"Yes, it does. That's why you are still breathing" he said coldly.

He walked back to the hospital, trying not to cry for his broken heart, lost home and family life he never had had. Maybe Mycroft was right and caring is a disadvantage. Because he felt like living dead. Again. Everything felt unreal.

He loved Mary. And he hated her.

He had Sherlock. He loved him but he was not sure what that could mean.

When he got to the hospital he wanted nothing else than to sleep. He headed straight back to Sherlock's room.

Not noticing he had held his breath before it escaped in a relieved sigh when he saw Sherlock again and that he was still alive and lying on the bed.

"Hey" he said, noticing that the tube had vanished from Sherlock's mouth. That was very good news and he smiled a little "you are already looking better" he said and leaned in to again brush the dark locks into order. "I hope you weren't lonely, I just really had to do something" he said. Then he fetched the chair and pulled it right next to the bed. "I wonder why you never told me there was something wrong with her. Out of the two of you, she is the sociopath. Scratch that, she is a psychopath" He muttered and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes

"Night Sherlock" he managed to mutter before exhaustion took it's toll.

When he woke up it was bright again. He blinked, sat up straight again and rubbed his face. Then he looked at the bed.

"Sherlock?" he called, trying to see if the other would be awake.

"Yes?" came the reply in Sherlock's usual tone. He jumped up from his chair and leaned closer to observe Sherlock.

"How are you feeling?" he asked concerned but at the same time so happy he couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face.

"On Morphine" Sherlock finally opened his eyes and looked at him "We may have a problem with that later"

He was still smiling but decided to play a little and lifted an eyebrow

"We?"

Sherlock blinked rapidly.

"Yes I just..."

he silenced Sherlock with a shake of his head

"Of course we. That's obvious". He had the privilege to see Sherlock smile for real. And just for him. He smiled back fondly and caressed the locks once more, a habit he had created in alarmingly short time. Sherlock closed his eyes when his fingers made contact but he didn't shrink away. If something, he seemed to like it

"You did that when I was unconscious?" Sherlock drawled when he pulled his hand back. He felt his cheeks flush a bit

"Might have. Checking if you were getting feverish and all" he tried to explain. Sherlock just lifted an eyebrow but he hurriedly changed a subject "How much do you recall?"

Sherlock turned his head away

"We were searching the place. You stayed behind and I went ahead. I found Magnusson. And then I was shot" Sherlock said in rapid fire speech.

"Sherlock" he reprimanded. The wounded man closed his eyes and didn't respond. He grew worried instantly, had Sherlock gone unconscious? "Sherlock?" he said, voice raising, touching Sherlock's shoulder. The man smirked.

"I'm fine mother hen" the quick silver eyes opened and looked at him "You on the other hand don't look too good. What is the matter?"

All the worry, pain and anxiety suddenly burst out

"She shot you! And you just lied to me about it, didn't tell me that you knew exactly who shot you."he didn't bother hiding the tears "You died Sherlock, this time you died."

Sherlock gazed to the window and then looked at him again

"Yes. I know. But I came back"

"You are not a cat. You don't have nine lives." he said and hid his eyes behind his hand, looking the floor. "Why did you try to protect her?"

"She didn't shoot to kill me" Sherlock answered. He lowered his hand and glared

"But she could have also chose not to shoot"

"You love her" Sherlock said quietly, looking a bit remorseful "And she saved you when I nearly ruined you"

"You don't owe her anything just because she was here when you were away. She fooled me this whole time about who she is, what she is. What if she is just part of Moriarty's group and got close to me to be in prime spot to hurt us in case you were alive and came back"

"She is carrying your child." Sherlock said and looked past him. He took support from the bedside and leaned right next to Sherlock's face

"And I don't care. I don't trust her. I can't trust her anymore. She nearly took away my precious person. No one is allowed to do that. I cannot loose you again Sherlock. I will break then"

Sherlock's eyes went wide and they searched his eyes and face, taking in all the multitude of pointers that told Sherlock that he was being serious. Then Sherlock sighed

"Dear John, you are too good for me"

he brushed Sherlock's hair from his face and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes and just feeling Sherlock's presence, the sheer force of his mind and spirit working.

"No" he managed to say "No I am not. You are a good man. You tried to spare my feelings. You thought she was good for me. Even now you were defending her, trying to make me leave you and go back to whatever life I had. Whilst she tried to manipulate me, guilt trip me into staying with her" he opened his eyes and being this close to Sherlock's eyes was truly magnificent and despite of what he was saying he was smiling. "You truly care for me Sherlock. I can see that now. Sorry it took so long" he finished and sighed.

Sherlock was silent and just stared at him. It was so similar with the shock that had been on his face on the day he had asked him to be his best man. A twinge of pain stabbed his heart. How he wished he would have never done that. Even though seeing Sherlock shine with everyones focus on him when he was giving his speech was priceless. But what was done was done. He had forgiven Sherlock for leaving him for two years, it was only fair that Sherlock would forgive him for getting married.

He pulled back to enjoy the full view of stunned Sherlock. The pink bow lips slightly parted, eyes blinking confused.

"Sherlock. You should know this already but I do love you." if possible Sherlock's eyes got even wider but nothing else happened. He grinned "You talking in your head again? Because I can't hear a thing"

Sherlock swallowed. He saw the throat muscles working.

"Yes. You are my best friend, I am your best friend. Don't confuse affection into something else. You are just shocked from me being in hospital."

He giggled

"You idiot. Don't try to tell me how I feel" He hovered over Sherlock who just stared back at him, face turned to the side a bit. "I know about sentiment, I know what it is that I feel. I feel relieved that I was granted the chance to do this" he finished and leaned down. He noticed that Sherlock actually tilted his head towards him so that their lips met in much better angle than he could have managed on his own in this setting. Sherlock's lips were a bit dry but that wasn't really any wonder. And he couldn't quite kiss as well as he would have wanted to since Sherlock was still weak. But still, it was one of his best kisses. Most wanted, definitely. When he heard the heart monitor start beating faster he pulled away and to his delight Sherlock tried to follow his movement.

"Believe me now?" he asked. Sherlock licked his lips and slowly grinned

"For now"

"When we get out of here, can I..." he tried asking, being pleased with Sherlock's reaction and having new hope for an even better future. He was not happy that Sherlock had been shot, but it had not been all bad.

"Of course you can come home. Your chair is back where it's supposed to be and the room is just waiting for you"

He sighed content and sat down into the chair.

"Good." he muttered. There were all kind of things to work out and deal with but now he had a home to go back to and Sherlock to protect. And Sherlock to protect him "But next time, tell me when someone is hiding something from me"

"Fine." Sherlock said "Anthea is into girls so that's why she never responded to your charm. Lestrade is aware that you shot the awful cabbie but he is keeping it a secret and..."

"Okay okay" he said laughing "Don't tell me everything. But if someone tries to come between us, don't keep me in the dark, even if it's for my sake"

Sherlock sombered and looked at him

"John."

"Sherlock"

they stared at each others for a while.

"Third time would be too much" he said quietly. Sherlock sighed glancing away

"There will not be a third time. I won't allow it" Sherlock's face darkened "It hurts too much to see you in pain"

He reached out and took a hold of Sherlock's hand

"Likewise"

Sherlock snorted

"Still on morphine."

"Still a smart-arse"

Sherlock grinned and chuckled and looked at him long and hard

"And still you are here"

He shrugged and rubbed a thumb over the back of Sherlock's hand

"And here we are."

They were both tired and soon they were sleeping again, still holding hands. The door opened soundlessly and the only sound came from the cane swinging in air. Mycroft stood there for a moment, observing the two sleeping forms. He hoped that from now on he wouldn't have to worry about his brother so much. Things were finally the way they should have been and how they would have been if Moriarty had not come and ruined everything.

He smiled a little and turned back. It was time he took care of certain Mrs. Watson and bring the hammer down on Magnusson. Things had gone too far already, it was high time he took matters into his own hands. Even if it meant that Sherlock would be bored for a while. From the door he looked at the two one last time. He huffed and closed the door. No, Sherlock would not be bored for long while. John had very much things to show and teach him.

Yes. tired. and these stories are just getting longer. I know, they are still short but still. I think they are just good length for a oneshot.

Good night everyone! it was a good writing day but it was also a looong writing day. it's already tomorrow.