Disclaimer: Don't own, wish I did
"Breathe, please, just breathe, for me." John's voice was almost a sob, but he wouldn't allow himself to cry. He was a doctor, he was doing chest compressions to save a life and if he gave in to the tears, he wouldn't have the strength to continue.
There was blood, so much blood, covering his hands, dripping onto the floor and every compression seemed to push more out of the wound, but there was nothing else that could be done. He had help, Lestrade was beside him, putting pressure on the wound with John's jumper, which had been cream, but was now a startling shade of red.
The ambulance would be here any second. John had called it. In fact, John had done everything he knew from his medical training to react swiftly and efficiently to this crisis. He'd given the injured person the best chance of surviving this. So why did he feel like he'd failed them?
"Suddenly, that person coughed, blood spraying in the saliva from their lips, which wasn't good, but they were breathing, which was something.
"Hang on, please, hang on." John's voice cracked, as his hand came up to caress the injured person's face. "I love you," he whispered, tears swimming in his eyes. The faint noise of an ambulance siren was heard growing closer.
"Thank God," Lestrade breathed out and redoubled pressure on the wound.
The eyes of the person below John's caress fixed glassily on his face and they attempted a smile, then they raised an unsteady hand, to point to the person currently pacing the floor alongside them.
Lestrade turned, kicked the pacing figure with his foot and gestured to them with his head. They looked down at him with an unfathomable expression.
"Down here, now." Lestrade said angrily.
There was a commotion outside then and the doors flew open, two paramedics running up the aisle of the theatre with a stretcher, followed by another with all their kit.
The pacing figure sank to their knees beside John, but John Watson never took his eyes from the face of the injured person on the ground. In the seconds before the paramedics reached them, that person raised their hand and placed it on the arm of the previously pacing figure, leaving a bloody handprint on their coat.
"Love him for me Sherlock." Mary gasped out.
And with that, Mary Watson's glassy eyes rolled back in her head. The three men were shoved aside by the paramedics, who began frantically working on her lifeless body.
John Watson's howl of anguish could be heard in the street outside.