I never imagined that I would live a long life.
I always figured I would die young.
Stabbed or shot.
But, I never thought I would regret it so much once I feel for you.
Now, I'm dying.
I'm scared.
And I don't wanna go.
"Sherlock! Sherlock!" He could hear the blond yelling for him as he laid on the ground gasping softly for air. It had all happened so fast. The perp. The gun. John freezing when shots were fired, then firing back. The perp fell and then so did Sherlock. The white shirt under his black jacket was staining with red as it flowed from the wound in his chest.
I never thought it would be so painful.
But god it was.
It was like a hot, searing pain that made warm tears prickle in the corner of his eyes as he tried to make his brain work enough to say something. Anything. "J-John..." The blond moved and was now hovering over him. "S-Shh... Sherlock, it's okay. You're going to be okay. Don't talk." He said quickly trying to sound calm as he moved to unbutton the now crimson soaked shirt. "John... it hurts." He nodded and pulled his left hand away and shook it, trying to get the tremor to stop. "I know love... let me do my job, I'll help you. I'll make it stop." He said said as he tore the under shirt gently not to jerk his body too much. Sherlock's vision was fading in and out all ready. It was hard to breath. John looked at the wound and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to suppress a sob.
Sherlock was going to die.
The bullet had blown apart his lung and damaged his heart. Every irregular beat pumped more blood out of his chest. He pressed his tanned hands to his chest to try and stop the bleeding. "Sherlock..."
I'm numb.
"I'm d-dying right?" He mumbled out and looked up at him. He coughed on some of the blood in his throat and whined as the pressure made him uncomfortable. Vision going black and coming back. His pale hand moved and touched John's cheek. "John... I-I'm scared... I don't wanna g-go." John's blue eyes locked with Sherlock's green ones, and the words pulled a soft from his throat. "I don't want you to go either. Don't. Just don't. Stop it. Please." Sherlock swallowed hard and closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. "I can't..."
I can't breath.
I can't stay awake.
I can't stop myself from going.
"I'm so s-sorry..." He muttered opening his eyes and looking at John, who closed his eyes. He shook his head hard. "Shut up, just... shut up. You can't go. Don't- I need you. I just got you back Sherlock plea-..." He cut himself off when he felt the hand fall from his face. Sherlock's chest stop heaving. He was terrified to open his eyes.
No.
"No, Sherlock! Wake up! Don't go! Stop! Stop it now! Wake up..." He yelled and moved to wrap his arms around the limp shoulders and tugged him to his chest. His bloodied hand gripping the dark hair as he press him to his chest. "Wake up, you git..." He said in a broken voice as he buried his face into the curls.
Wake up.
It's time to go home.
Sherlock.
"Just stop."