A blast from the past: Originally posted anonymously on the Sherlock Comment-fic meme, then de-annoned on my Livejournal August 22, 2010.
Warnings: mild gore and violence
Prompt: John Watson, Action-Medic.
A Little Bit of D.I.Y.
John regretted not wearing a tie for the first time in his life. Or a belt, blasted jeans. He kept pressure on the wound deep in the woman's thigh but too much blood was still seeping out between his fingers. It was a mixed blessing she'd fallen unconscious.
"Tourniquet, tourniquet, I need a bloody- SHERLOCK, GET BACK HERE I NEED YOUR SCARF!"
"Busy!" Sherlock's faint voice and footsteps echoed around the underpass as he chased their quarry.
"Right," John gritted, "Not a problem, I'll just deal with it." He kept pressure on, wondering if he could unravel his jumper one-handed. But that would take too long, she'd bleed out. And it was ludicrous.
"That's not very nice," came the voice of the man Sherlock had been chasing. "Messing with a man's work."
"Oh for- SHERLOCK, HE'S BACK HERE! HE'S CIRCLED 'ROUND!" John glared into the darkness. "I don't have time for you now!"
The man detached himself from the shadows, knife glinting, the woman's blood staining his suit. "I worked hard on that one, and you're interfering with my work."
"Look, you rabid nutter-" John glanced up to see the man's tie swinging from his neck. "Ah, perfect!"
With one hand keeping pressure on the wound, he pulled out his gun and shot the man in the knee.
The man screamed and toppled, losing his grip on his knife as he clutched his knee and fell towards John.
"Thank you," John said as he dropped the gun, snatched off the man's tie, and tied a quick tourniquet.
The man groaned and cursed, scrabbling in the dirt for his knife.
Hands freed from their duty, John picked up the gun again. "Ah, no, that's quite enough of that."
The man resumed clutching his knee and cursing.
"John?!" Sherlock's voice echoing again.
"It's all right, Sherlock! I've got him!" With two fingers tracking his patient's pulse, John kept the gun trained on the man.
"You've ruined my leg you bastard!"
"With good care that will heal well enough for you to take part in the prison Olympics. But you do have two knees and sundry other painful areas in which to get shot. Now, let's chat." John aimed at the agonized man. "Where are you keeping the others?"
- - -
(that's all)