The lights went out and the three of them immediately huddled into a crouch behind the table. John ushered Soo Lin to his side and shot a worried glance at Sherlock. The consulting detective's eyes swam for a fraction of a second in the darkness. John realized what his flat mate was thinking and immediately shook his head warningly.
"Sherlock," He started but the tall man was already up on his feet, dashing toward the exit door.
"No, no, no, Sherlock!" John yelled after him but the tail of Sherlock's coat had already disappeared through the door. John cursed under his breath and looked at Soo Lin. He couldn't leave her alone. The unknown assaulter was after her. John wished he had at least brought his gun with him. Just then, as if the attacker had read John's mind, there was a gunshot noise from a distance. John's shoulders tensed and his heart pounded hard against his chest. He briskly pushed Soo Lin to the far corner of the room and instructed her to stay where she was. Then, he dashed after the direction of the noise.
There were several more gunshots as John sprinted out of the room and towards the dark corridor. The moonlight was the only way he could see. He perked up his ears and hoped he could hear Sherlock's footsteps.
"Sherlock!" The doctor yelled, risking revealing his where about the attacker. There was no reply. John bit his lower lip as he shouldered through a door the lead to an open space. "Sherlock!" He yelled again but came to an abrupt halt when he saw a dark shadow sprawled in the middle of the white marble floor.
"Oh god no," John breathed as he weakly approached the figure. The figure dressed in a long coat was agonizingly familiar.
"Sherlock," The army doctor said shakily and kneeled beside him. "Sherlock," His friend let out a faint grunt as he tried to push himself up. Seeing excessive bleeding from Sherlock's back, John hastily stopped him from moving around. John looked around the area and checked for the attacker. There was no one there. Seeing that the two were safe for the moment, John switched his attention back to the injured man. Sherlock was trying to breathe steadily but it was shallow and sharp.
"How badly does it hurt? Talk to me." The doctor asked urgently and placed a hand over the gunshot wound in the lower left hand side of Sherlock's broad back. Blood was already seeping through the coat's fabric. Sherlock only tensed his jaws and didn't reply. "Sherlock," John called. He needed Sherlock to speak to him. He had to make sure that he was fully conscious. Before he could hear and answer, the army doctor swore under his breath. It was hard to tell in the dark but he realized that Sherlock was shot three times in the back, all concentrated on the left side. Using hands were not efficient. The bleeding was too excessive. The coat was soaking wet and John's palms were already swamped in a deep crimson color. John shrugged off his coat and pressed it to the wounds. Sherlock let out a groan his hands blindly grabbed for something to hold on to.
"Burns," The consulting detective gasped. He started to writhe but John held him down. From the looks of it, it looked like all the bullets were stuck inside of Sherlock. It was lucky that the bullet didn't ricochet inside him and puncture his heart or any vital organs and nerves. With his bloodied left hand, John reached his pocket for the mobile phone.
"Go to…Soo Lin after…you call the ambulance." Sherlock panted weakly as John rang the emergency.
"No," John said firmly and pressed the phone against his ear. The line connected immediately. In a brisk, professional manner of a doctor, John stated the address and the state of the injury. Once he finished the call, he shifted slightly to the side so that he could peek into Sherlock's face while he applied pressure to the wounds.
"The ambulance will be here in 10 minutes. Hang in there for just 10 minutes." He ordered urgently. Sherlock's face was contorted with agony and his eyes were half squinted. The consulting detective managed to show a small nod. The army doctor raised his head up and scanned the area for any sign of the attacker.
"John," Sherlock rasped again. "Soo Lin…"
"I can't leave you alone here." John replied briskly without looking down at his flat mate as he continued to guard their surroundings. Sherlock weakly raised his right arm and scratched at John's shirt blindly.
"I'm fine…It doesn't…hurt as much…anymore."
"That's the shock setting in." John shifted and applied more pressure. "You'll be feeling numb for a while but after a few minutes, the real pain will-HEY!" Before John could finish his explanation, Sherlock's eyes started rolling into the back of his head. John lightly slapped Sherlock's cheek, leaving a red smear of his own blood on the gaunt, pale face. Sherlock's glassy eyes swiveled back to John's.
"…I'm fine." The consulting detective said in a frail whisper. John shook his head firmly. "Fine…Soo Lin…the girl." Sherlock started to babble on to show that he still had the strength to speak. The ex-army doctor shushed him and increased his pressure on the wound .Sherlock merely winced. Suddenly, another gunshot echoed from the behind John. The doctor whipped his head back and his jaw dropped. Sherlock let out a groan and pressed his arms against the floor in an attempt to lift his body up. The doctor snapped back from his stupor and pushed his flat mate back down.
"No, you can't move."
"But she's…an important witness. I can't-" As a former soldier, John knew the importance of knowing his priority. If he left Sherlock here and went searching for Soo Lin his detective friend may be highly likely to die. On the other hand, the safety of Soo Lin was unknown. She could have escaped the bullet, perhaps not. She could have been shot just like Sherlock and gravely injured yet Sherlock had three bullets inside of him while Soo Lin, potentially had only one. The degree of the damage would of course, depend on where she was shot but if she was gravely injured with a single bullet, it is highly likely that she had encountered immediate death by now. Sherlock was his top priority no matter what the consulting detective said.
As John was quickly assessing his situation, Sherlock was clawing at the floor and trying to drag himself toward the direction of the gunshot. The detective frame was trembling and Sherlock was breathing heavily through his clenched teeth. John tried to persuade his flat mate to stay still.
"Sherlock, you can't move for heaven's sake, you got three bullets in you!" Sherlock opened his mouth but only managed a weak croak and he stretched his right arm out. "Sherlock!" John hissed. The injured man finally seemed to have come to his senses and relaxed. John took advantage over this and readjusted his half blood-soaked coat over the wound. The doctor breathed in deeply and calmed himself down. He was used to situations like this from his experience at Afghanistan. He silently hoped that Soo Lin was okay. John couldn't look at his watch to tell how much time had passed but he head the good feeling that it was well past five minutes since he made the call for an ambulance when he realized that Sherlock was unnervingly still. John nudged at the limp figure.
"How are you feeling?" There was no reply. John frowned in the darkness and tilted his head over to peek into Sherlock's face. That moment, his heart skipped at beat with cold panic. Sherlock's eyes were half opened and empty. His expression was too slack and he was not breathing. "Sherlock…" The inside of John's mouth dried up instantly. "Shit" He swore and flipped Sherlock onto his back. He wished he had an oxygen mask but CPR would have to do. He feared that handling Sherlock roughly might risk the bullet inside of his body to cause secondary damage but the doctor had no time to fuss about it. He pressed his hands to Sherlock's chest and pumped it firmly several times. Then, he tilted Sherlock's chin up and breathed in several times through his mouth. He could taste blood in the detective's mouth but he ignored it and went back to the compression. After a few frantic seconds of this procedure, Sherlock made a small hitching noise and breathed in. The light in his eyes returned as he blinked sluggishly. John let out a sigh of relief and flipped Sherlock back to his stomach and pressed at the wound. Sherlock let out a sharp gasp and writhed under his grip. His long clammy fingers clawed and pulled at John's shirt.
"Relax, Sherlock, just relax."
"…hu-" Sherlock gasped out and breathed in sharply again. His eyes screwed tightly shut and he let out a scream of agony. The shock had ebbed away and real pain was setting in. "HURTS" he roared and clawed at the floor, looking for something to hold on to. John freed his right hand and grasped one of Sherlock's writhing hands. The slender fingers immediately wrapped around John's shakily and grasped tightly. The doctor winced in pain but held on tightly. Sherlock was starting to hyperventilate and his sweating increased.
"Breathe in slowly Sherlock, the ambulance is almost here." Sherlock could merely grunt. The fingernails dug into the back of John's hand. The consulting detective's face was screwed in agony. "A few more minutes." John called out soothingly. Sherlock cracked his eyes open, his brows furrowed tightly. He loosened his tensed jaws and squeezed out the name with all his might.
"John,"
"What is it, Sherlock" his friend replied, trying to keep his voice as level was possible. Without letting go of John's hand, Sherlock squirmed around , trying to flip himself over onto his back again. John pressed him down at first but Sherlock let out a shout of agony and frustration that his flat mate jumped. Seeing the burning look in Sherlock's pain-clouded eyes, John reluctantly flipped Sherlock over, letting go of the blood drenched coat. Sherlock released John's hand for a second and intertwined the fingers again once he was facing up toward the ceiling .His fingers were trembling violently. John leaned forward and brushed Sherlock's loose curls away from his eyes with his free hand. He accidentally smeared blood over Sherlock's sweaty forehead but the usually hygienic detective didn't seem to mind anymore. Instead, Sherlock lifted his other hand out toward John's face. His usually sharp grey-blue eyes were foggy and unseeing. The detective's breathing was getting more frantic as he tried to send oxygen to his brain. John bit his lips but other than that, he tried not to show his emotions. A puddle of blood was already forming on the floor, and John's right knee was already soaked into it. Sherlock licked his lips and managed to curl his lips up into a small smile as the trembling finger tips finally brushed John's cheek.
"…Jo-John," Sherlock stuttered and inhaled. His eyelids fluttered and the light in his eyes dimmed another level. His gaze were unfocused and from the way Sherlock was frantically reaching for John the doctor could tell that Sherlock's sight was already slipping away.
"Sherlock," Blurted but Sherlock squeezed at John's hand, making him shut up. He drew in another shaky breath.
"John, tell Mycroft…" The doctor shook his head.
"No," Sherlock's smile only widened in a very sad manner as Sherlock mustered his remaining strength and nerves to send his message.
"L-Lestrade…Mrs…Mrs…" Sherlock's weak gaze shifted slightly to the light and his eyes were starting to close. John panicked.
"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock's eyes swiveled back toward the direction of John's voice.
"And…Molly…" He whispered and gulped for air several more times. After seeing that Sherlock was showing no signs to continue, John decided to press on to keep the injured man awake.
"Tell them what?"
Sherlock's grip on John's hand suddenly loosened a little. John squeezed back frantically.
"What do you want to tell them?"
"I…" The fingers were starting to slip away. Sherlock opened and closed his mouth as if to say something .John leaned in closer to hear what he was saying.
"What?" Sherlock licked his lips. For a fraction of a second, his glassy eyes threatened to close but the detective held on tightly. John pushed his ear toward Sherlock so that his puffy lips almost touched his ear lobe but Sherlock couldn't say anything .Only a faint rasp of his breath could be heard. John turned his head to face Sherlock and was temporarily surprised at how close his face was to his dying friend.
"What is it?" John pressed but Sherlock merely gazed back at John in a sad way. The trembling fingertips caressed the side of John's face as his other hand completely lost his grip. Sherlock's breathing was barely recognizable now. The doctor's eyes were starting to water. His flat mate merely looked back at him weakly as if to say don't cry. Then, before Sherlock could rally his message to John, he let out a small sigh and the light in his eyes completely faded away. The hands slid from John's face and fell to the ground with a deafening thud.
"Sherlock, what is it?" John asked shakily and stared at Sherlock's empty, lifeless eyes. "You didn't tell me. What is it? I can't hear." He demanded although a part of him already knew that it was too late to ask. He clasped his bloodied hands to Sherlock's face and asked again but there was no reply. Tears welled up from the doctor's eyes and ran down his cheek. John let out a sob and pressed his wet cheeks to Sherlock's cold, dry one.
"No, no, no… you can't do that, Sherlock, you have to tell me!" He yelled into Sherlock's neck and shook him but the lifeless body was like a rag doll. The faint sound of an approaching ambulance was wiped away by the howling sobs of Doctor John Watson as it echoed hauntingly in the empty, cold museum.