John's hands shook as he picked up the phone. It felt like it weighed a ton, he struggled to pick it up. He was slipping into unconsciousness, but he had to do one thing first. John punched in Sherlock's number with his bloody fingers. He waited, hoping Sherlock would answer
"Hello?" Sherlock answered.
"Hi, it's me," John's voice was weak; it was scratchy and hard to understand. "could you come get me?"
"John? What's wrong? Where are you?"
"The p-pool, just hurry please."
Sherlock ran out the door and furiously called a taxi. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," John lied. "Hurry please."
Sherlock could hear John's breathing getting shallower. "John, stay on the line, I need to know you are ok." The detective shouted at the driver the address, "I'm on my way, hang on."
John breathed into the phone; it hurt to breathe, he just wanted to give up, "but Sherlock is coming, then he'll save me" thought John.
"John what is happening?" Sherlock asked.
"Nothing," John breathed in a shaky breath, "Go home." He tried to sound stern, but it came out as desperate.
"What? No, I'm coming to get you."
"Sherlock, go home."
"To late I'm already here." The cab pulled up the curb, Sherlock threw some money at the driver and run up to the steps of the building.
"NO! GO AWAY YOU'RE A FREAK! GO HOME!" John yelled.
"John…" Sherlock sounded hurt; he could hear John sobbing quietly in the background. "I'm coming in." Sherlock pushed open the doors and stopped in shock.
He saw John slumped against a wall, sitting in a puddle of crimson blood, and next to him was none other than James Moriarty. Sherlock ran over to John.
"Stop right there!" shouted Moriarty, he held a knife to John's throat.
Sherlock stopped and held his hands up, "What did you do to him?" his voice trembled with rage.
Moriarty looked at the knife, then at john, then at Sherlock, "I thought you were supposed to be a genius."
"Put the knife away." Sherlock ordered.
"But John and I were having so much fun." Moriarty frowned; he pulled it away from John's neck and began to twirl it between his fingers.
"Let him go."
"Nah, I don't really want to." The criminal shrugged.
Sherlock looked over at John, he was barely breathing; the hole in his stomach was deep and messy. "John," Sherlock spoke "I'm sorry."
"Bit late for that." Moriarty began to walk toward Sherlock. "You really should get a leash for this one, he is always getting into so much trouble."
"Why?" Sherlock clenched his jaw, trying his best not to take the knife and stab Moriarty.
"I was bored! You know how that is, don't you?"
"I don't kill when I'm bored."
Moriarty leaned over and whispered in Sherlock's ear, "Well I do." He put the knife against Sherlock's chest and slid it down lightly.
"Don't touch me" said Sherlock.
Moriarty walked along the pool side. "Tell me Dr. Watson, when he said he needed a flat mate, did you expect to get kidnapped and stabbed?"
John couldn't talk at this point, blood was dripping out of his mouth; he had 5 minutes left at best.
"John is strong, he can handle this." Sherlock insisted.
"Do you want to know how this whole ordeal happened?" Moriarty smirked "Well, it starts with Johnny boy being a little slut."