Dear God He's Gone and Done It
Prologue:
The woman lay, possibly dying in the street, bleeding profusely from the wound to her abdomen. A weak laugh came from her lips as John tried to staunch the flow of blood.
"Oh God! I didn't even see it."
Mary was on the phone, demanding that an ambulance immediately be sent to their location. Mycroft was on the phone demanding an APB on the assailant. Sherlock, although doing his best to aid John, was lost in his own thoughts about the turn of events from the evening.
"See what?" John questioned as Sherlock passed him another length of his own shirt sleeve.
"I've been bloody jealous…No pun intended." She coughed as she laughed.
"Please don't exert yourself Barbary. You'll need every ounce you've got to last until the ambulance gets here."
"Oh John,' she said rather breathlessly. "John, I've been so damned jealous all this time."
"Of what."
"Of Mary….Of Mary…Of you both. Take care of her won't you? Of course you will, you're you….' Barbary answered her own question.
Turning her weakening gaze on to Sherlock, 'Make sure they take care of each other. Don't let them waste all that."
"Why have you been jealous of us both, hmmm?" John was asking to keep her talking while he still worked to stop or, at this point, slow the bleeding.
"You've both got something I always wanted." Her eyes closed for just a moment too long.
"What's that?"
"Hmmm?" she was trying to figure out what his question referred to.
"What is it that you are so jealous of us for?"
"Oh. Just….you…both have each other. I've always wondered what it was like to have someone that truly loved you no matter what. I've never had anybody that cared. Mary's my only friend, take care of her please." She was weakening further, but still pleading that Mary should be taken care of.
Sherlock, usually stoic, reserved, narcissistic Sherlock, couldn't see through…Did he actually have tears in his eyes? He wiped at them with his ungloved hand. He hadn't cried over anything since he was a child, least of all a woman. And most anyone would tell you that the only woman he had ever professed any love for was Irene. And even then, it wasn't so much professing love as it was stating obvious admiration for the fact that she seemed to be equally as intelligent as him; she intrigued him, he admired her, that was about the extent of his feelings for her…But could he have actually fallen under this woman's cunning spell after all?
"Oh, look at you…' she lifted her left hand to Sherlock's face; her fingers becoming cold to the touch. He leaned his cheek into the palm of her hand, if only to warm her little hand a bit.
"Look at you my dear, sweet, lost boy." She rubbed his cheek with her thumb.
"I knew the moment I saw you that you would cause me pain. And now, here we are. Don't feel bad. It's my own fault really. You were just my weakness. You were tall and handsome and every word out of your mouth was music to my ears…you could have been reading the phone book for what I cared…"
She coughed harder this time, blood coming from her mouth, her breath sounding sort of wheezy.
"Barbary, the ambulance is just here. I can hear the sirens. Come, we're getting you to hospital…" Sherlock was doing his best, and failing, at sounding positive about the ambulance being close by.
"I'm not gonna make it. John knows that. But it was worth every drop of blood to get you to look at me that way, even once." Finally, a tear slid down her cheek, running down the side of her neck, finally landing on the ground. Her breathing became shallower, almost to the point of stopping all together.
Post AN: Alright, that is the prologue for my first crack at a Sherlock fic. I know I'm bound to get some of the smaller details wrong….just lemme know what you think, good or bad; but, no badgering or borderline harassment, please. I can take criticism just fine, but keep it above the belt. Thanks for giving this a shot.